


Indigo

by thats_my_bulma



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Space, Dystopian Sci-fi, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grungy sci-fi, Raditz Does Fictional Drugs, Self-Acceptance, Sexual Frustration, Shy Geets, kind of slow burn, not as SB as I originally intended lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-23 04:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thats_my_bulma/pseuds/thats_my_bulma
Summary: Bulma is a tech genius stranded on an alien planet. Vegeta is a Saiyan soldier doing the bidding of a tyrant.After he unwittingly saves the woman in a bar skirmish, the two find themselves building a tentative romance in a desperate world.





	1. A Spark

The place was a dump, a scuzzy hole-in-the-wall full of smoke and half naked alien waitresses prancing around, giggling girlishly whenever a hand smacked their bethonged asses. The music was too loud, the lighting too sickly, the place too grimy- and Vegeta, prince of all three Saiyans, wasn’t having any of it.

 _Why_ his idiot subordinates had decided to visit the shittiest bar in the whole city was beyond him, and equally as baffling was why he had agreed to join them. Bars were high up on his list of avoidable areas, right up there with parties and festivals. _Total shit shows_. Full of people and all of the other wretched things he tried to avoid on a daily basis. And yet, here he was, in the middle of _The Groggy Gorchik,_ drinking beer from a dirty glass and wishing for nothing but to be well on his way to the next round of systematic extermination.  

His decision to join his subordinates stemmed from two glaring issues, first being that he was too wired to sleep, and secondly, that he was going stir crazy from being cooped up in a tiny space, wallowing in an unappealing room which happened to be in an equally as unappealing city. It was hands down _the_ worst metropolis in all of Frieza's vast territory- the desolate, hopeless pit that was known as  _Akuiper_. And they had been stuck in its greasy clutches for three days. _Three endless days._

“They better get that fucking ship ready to go tomorrow.” Vegeta mumbled, his head propped on his fist miserably while a reptilian woman with big yellow eyes came by their table to replace the Saiyans’ drinks.

“It’ll get done when it gets done Vegeta, you know how it goes.” Nappa murmured distractedly, tapping his cigar ash in the floor and taking a ragged card from the pile which lay in the middle of the dingy table. Vegeta flicked his tail in annoyance, ignoring the serpent lady who bent down lower than she needed to, exposing a good portion of her full breasts to the Saiyans.

Raditz raised an eyebrow at her and grinned, groping her scaly ass, and she purred at the Saiyan with a wanton smile while she gathered up their empty glasses. Vegeta made a repulsed face at Raditz while Nappa took another card, his lips curling into a smirk as he put his spent cigar out in a blackened ashtray.

Vegeta watched the waitress skip away, and it finally dawned on him as to why his comrades had chosen such a dump. _How could he have been so stupid?_

“Are these serving women _whores_?” Vegeta blurted, already knowing the answer as his subordinates looked at each other knowingly, not even trying to hide their shit-eating grins before they burst into laughter. Vegeta rolled his eyes dramatically. _This was just grand._

“That’s why you wanted to come to this piece of shit bar, then? For the _filthy whores_. You’re both disgusting, depraved fucks.” He huffed, downing a good portion of the pathetic excuse for beer set before him.

“Aww, you caught us,” Raditz grinned, drawing two more cards, his smile instantly turning into a sour scowl before he cursed at Nappa “Draw bitch!”

Nappa sneered at the younger Saiyan, staring him down as he drew two more cards from the pile, taking his time as Raditz tapped the table impatiently. He turned them over and glanced down, his face expressionless for several moments.

“What is it? A bad draw?” Raditz questioned, his eyes widening in false hope.

“Ohoho! Who’s the bitch _now_?” Nappa boomed, throwing a perfect hand of cards on the table as Raditz stared dumbfounded, his mouth gaping stupidly as the bald hulk howled with laughter.

“How?” Raditz had managed to stammer, hitting the table when anger soon exceeded his surprise.

“I’m just _gooood_.” Nappa crooned in a baritone drawl, taking a long swig of the house beer and cackling as Raditz threw his inferior hand of cards behind his head, hitting the wary patrons behind him with a flurry of ragged paper.

“You’re cheating, you asshole! Gotta’ be! You’ve beat me at every game this week!” Raditz exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the much larger Saiyan, who held his hands up in smug satisfaction. Vegeta shook his head in disgust, the moron couldn’t play a good game of _Hitch_ if his life depended on it.

“Raditz, shut your damn mouth.” Vegeta hissed, but the wild maned Saiyan continued his rant, knocking over a mug of beer as he fumed, the stream of which came threateningly close to Vegeta’s side of the table. _Impertinent fool_. The prince narrowed his lips in anger, kicking Raditz under the table and making damn sure it was hard enough to cause the idiot a good deal of discomfort.

“He didn’t cheat, you fucking moron. Now _calm down_.” Vegeta growled, and Raditz nodded silently, his face set in a pained scowl while he silently suffered from the radiating agony above his ankle. 

“Exactly, you just suck Radz’, bad luck. Get used to it.” Nappa shrugged, grabbing all of Raditz’s chips in one meaty hand. Vegeta sighed, grabbing his mug and tipping it up, consuming the last of the piss-water beer before slamming it back on the table hard enough to crack the handle off. He couldn’t bare to stay a moment longer, and he toyed with the thought of stopping at the liquor store on the way back to the hostel, buying the best bottle of hard liquor the store had, and getting gratuitously drunk until he passed out. _Blind drunk_.

“I’ve had enough of this” the prince motioned to the bar with a disparaging curl of the lip “And enough of you two fools. I’m going back to the hostel, and I promise you that if you bring a whore back to the room I will kill her, and you.”

His subordinates nodded in solemn acknowledgement, and Vegeta made to stand when a lively commotion broke out in the back of the bar.

“ _Oh_ hell no, you won’t!” A woman’s voice shrieked, before a flash and a crackling, electrical buzz sounded through the bar, resulting in a gurgling scream from the unfortunate fool who had been shocked. Vegeta sat back down in his seat, staring toward the uproar with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised, assessing the situation silently. _Interesting._

There was more yelling, followed by the crashing of tables and shrieking of waitresses as two aliens of different species chased a small woman from the back room, pushing their way through the patrons tactlessly as she fled from them, a nimble flash of blue darting around the objects in her path.

“Hoooly shit, this is good.” Nappa cackled, taking another gulp of his beer as he watched the amusing scene unfold. _Holy shit indeed_. Purging planets was rife with running, screaming weaklings and turmoil of every sort- that was nothing new, but in a public setting it was unusual, and it _really was_ entertaining.

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” The woman screamed when the taller, reptilian alien grabbed her by her wrist, causing her to fall, partially pulling him down with her as she squirmed, attempting to free herself from his scaly clutches.

“ _Not a chance_. You don’t have one single chance bitch.” A portly, ruddy skinned alien with a gurgling voice jeered, and the woman flopped, landing on her back and taking her reptilian assailant with her. She kicked him hard from the floor, revealing a mechanical leg that slammed into his narrow stomach, and the scaled man fell on his side, coughing up blood and moaning audibly. Just as she got to her feet, the ruddy alien tackled her with a surprisingly swift lunge, grabbing her in a bear hug and causing her to drop the electric prod she was weilding at him. He spun with her as she fought desperately, losing his footing in the process; the gravest mistake he could have ever made.

The red fool stumbled gracelessly into the Saiyans’ table, sending cards, scouters, chips and mugs all crashing to the floor. The Saiyans had of course seen it coming, and had darted back from the table imperceptibly. Nappa and Raditz took fighting stances, tails wrapped and teeth bared, ready to pounce- when Vegeta lifted one hand to stop them. His eyes narrowed in a cold, predatory stare as he watched the assailant regain his footing, the woman still screaming in his clutches.

He had been itching for a kill, just one would whet his appetite, thus ending the drought of violence that he had endured since landing on this rock. Nobody fucked with him, or his two idiots, and lived to tell the story. _No, no, no. Not at all._

“I told you, you had no chance.” The alien cackled, clapping one pudgy hand over the woman’s mouth, stifling her screams as he made to drag her out. Vegeta kicked the fallen table out of his way, moving perceptively toward the blundering idiot with his teeth bared, grabbing the blob of a creature by the back of his stained shirt. The ruddy alien turned around with a slathering, toothy maw, ready to fight any fool that dared to fuck with him, when he was met with the last image that he would ever see; a white gloved fist bursting into his bloated face.

Vegeta punched him so hard that his neck snapped immediately, and his head caved in like soft clay. The ruddy alien let go of the woman when his brain was destroyed, and she scampered out of the way as his portly body fell forward, landing facedown on the grimy floor. Thick green blood oozed from his ugly, ruined head, and Vegeta produced an animalistic growl, his heart racing in excitement as he shook the putrid green slime from his previously white glove.

It wasn’t long before the astute Saiyan noticed the intense silence, and he looked up from his kill slowly, realizing every soul in the bar was staring at him. _Idiots. Morons. Scum._ How dare they stare! How dare they cast all of their disgusting eyes on him like he was some sort of circus freak!

In a moment of rage, he felt as if he would blow the entire unsavory establishment all to hell. He may have to face the cities pathetic law enforcement, but what were they going to do with a soldier in Frieza's army? What _could_ they do? _Nothing, not a thing._ He would just kill all of them too.

 _But_. Frieza would be pissed. The tyrant would soon find out, no doubt, and punish him for causing chaos in one of his largest trade cities, _a safe city_. Vegeta would be grounded for weeks, _hell_ , months- without pay. And he knew that he just couldn't tolerate that at all.

The prince narrowed his eyes, looking around at the stunned patrons derisively before storming out of the bar in rage. He was having no more. _No more._

-

“Wait!” A voice behind him called, and he cringed as the sound of footsteps ran up to him on the oily, wet pavement- the stride was even, but the muted sound of gears was what tipped him off- the sound of a mechanical leg. _It was the damn woman._

“Go away.” He murmured, diverting his eyes from her as she caught up to him, grabbing him by his arching shoulder armor with a bright smile that he refused to see. He felt the fire of his rage stoked once more at her unwanted touch.

“You saved me! Those bastards were shady as hell. Damn, I should have told them to meet me at the garage, but they insisted we talk business over a few drinks. Where they were going to take me off to…god only knows. I really should’ve known better when I stepped foot in there, that place was a dump.” She prattled, the electric prod she had used to defend herself earlier clanging against her belt annoyingly as she kept up his rapid pace.

“I didn’t save you, stupid woman. I got rid of filth that stepped on Saiyan toes, nothing more.” He scoffed, ready to blast her into oblivion when she ran ahead of him, stepping in his path and crossing her arms defiantly.

“You don’t have to be an ass.” She sassed, and he stopped in his tracks, trying to contain his jaw from dropping, not wanting to look as stupid as Raditz had only ten minutes prior. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her amidst the commotion, but now he took her in fully.

She was of a height with him, her wavy hair a brilliant, absurd turquoise shining under the intense street lamps, her eyes a lighter shade than her hair. Her skin was fair, quite a bit lighter than his own, but it was still on the Saiyan spectrum.. _. Damn,_ she was as close to his species as he had ever seen in his many travels, to many galaxies and twice as many worlds. And to beat it all, she was _gorgeous._

“What are you?” He blurted, and she made a face at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“What species, where are you from?” He snapped, feeling slightly embarrassed as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m a human, from a planet called Earth.”

He had never heard of either, and he stared at her as she shook her head.

“Anyway, you saved me, and I wanted to offer upgrades or repairs on any equipment you may have, scouters, prosthetics, ships, bots’, etcetera. I’ve got a shop on…”

“I don’t want anything from you.” He interrupted brusquely, trying to swallow with an unusually dry throat, knowing that deep down he was lying through his fucking teeth. He cursed himself because he realized that he _did_ want something from her, and it wasn’t upgrades or repairs. He rarely reacted to his biological stirrings, it was a part of his nature that he normally kept under lock and key, but he felt himself desperately wanting to touch her, to feel her skin under his…all against his will. He blushed like a fool with his ridiculous thoughts.  

The human gave the Saiyan a perplexed look as his face reddened, and she deftly pulled a small square card from her breast pocket, one with a contact chip embedded in the plastic.

“Whatever. Here’s my chip, if you change your mind you can find me here.” She shrugged, and he nearly recoiled when she reached for his hand. He wasn't sure why he let her grab his glove, but he didn't shrink back when she pulled his loose fist out from the crook of his elbow, placing the card in his reluctant palm. He stared down speechlessly as her skin grazed the supple leather covering his own flesh, and he could see her fingers clearly… they were dark and mottled compared to the rest of her pale complexion. They looked like they were stained a deep blue, _maybe purple_. No, that wasn’t it, it was something in-between.

It took him a moment to recall the name of the color… _indigo._ He couldn’t quite understand why the color even mattered anyway, _it didn’t-_ and she brought him back to the present when she gave him the slightest of grins, winking before turning away without another word. His jaw really did drop, ever so slightly as she strutted off into the misty city haze, her silken hair bouncing and her ass swaying in tight, black pants.

Vegeta exhaled, not realizing that he had been holding his breath when she disappeared down the opposite street, and he clenched his jaw with an edgy, unfamiliar agitation. The prince finally looked down at the card, simply marked BULMA BRIEFS in the universal language, and he made to put it in his pocket when a hand clapped him roughly on the shoulder guard, startling him.

“Goddamnit Nappa.” Vegeta exhaled, angry that he was so enamored with the human that he had lost awareness of his surroundings. _So damn stupid._

 _"_ You left this." Nappa said while placing Vegeta's scouter in his hand, and the prince scowled when he noticed that the arm had been cracked nearly in two, the wires jutting out sickly.

"It's fucking broke." He mumbled in irritation, and Nappa shrugged, placing his own, unbroken scouter over his ear.

“Hit the floor pretty hard, but anyway, what was that about? She wantin’ to bang you or something? Exactly _how_ long has it been since you’ve been laid?” Nappa questioned mockingly, and Vegeta looked up at him with a particularly dangerous glare. He was embarrassed on multiple levels, and he wasn’t about to take any of his underlings’ shit.

“I swear to all of our gods, Nappa, I _will_ kill you.” He hissed, pointing a green stained finger at the overgrown Saiyan. Nappa put his hands up defensively, not speaking another word as Raditz strolled up to them, his arms behind his neck and whistling off pitch as he approached.

“She looked a lot like a Saiyan.” He murmured without further comment, staring distractedly in the direction that the woman had departed. Vegeta clenched his jaw. She really _did_ though… she looked like a damn dream, that’s what she looked like; and that was a _big_ problem. He shook his head, taking a deep, drawn out breath and regaining his typical stoic composure.

“Let’s go.” He barked, shoving the chip in his pocket, completely forgetting about his liquor store fantasy while his mind raced with thoughts of _her_.

-

“You have got to be kidding me, eighty credits each? Who do they think we are?” Bulma shouted to a squatty, buff alien that sat welding bars atop something resembling an aerocar. He pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket and placed it in front of the white hot flame, lighting the narrow cylinder and giving it a long puff before he sat the deactivated tool to his side. He exhaled, lifting his goggles so they sat atop his scraggly head.

“They clearly think we’re people that gotta’ shit ton of credits, some sort of rare, rich mechanics, right?” He replied sarcastically, in a crackling, baritone voice. Bulma rolled around the corner in her desk chair, her hands lifted over her head in an overly dramatic shrug, and the alien barked a dry laugh.

“My sentiments exactly.” He scoffed, taking a long drag.

“I can invite them here to observe our humble business, but they _won’t_ come, and if they did…well.”

“They’ll walk off the property as soon as they set foot on it.”

“Most likely. But then maybe they’ll feel sorry for us and lower the price on a bulk order of annicastors.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair exhaustedly. She needed those new parts, but _damn_. There was no way to justify eighty credits each, as it would leave no room for profit in their line of work.

She glanced around the building, noticing how utterly terrible it looked, which was something she never gave thought to normally. The twenty-foot walls in the garage were stacked to the top with shelves, all full of tubing, tangled wires, carburetors, various motors, antibridge fins, capacity wells, and just about any part that they could get their grimy hands on- for the right price, anyhow.

She glanced at the filthy windows, covered with close to a decade’s worth of dust, grime and smoke. The sunlight filtered through the glass in a muted fog, casting the entire garage in a sickly yellow hue. She made a face at their dump, laying all the way back in her chair and rotating slowly.

Neither she, or her Tarnelian co-owner, Cort, gave much mind to tidiness. As long as the bay stayed clear for customers’ vehicles, and they knew the general vicinity of their tools or parts- they were okay. And so far, it had worked for nearly eight years, without any major spats or the proverbial stepping-on-of-toes.

“We probably should clean this place up, it _is_ pretty gross.” She mumbled, and he laughed, coughing all the while.

“Good luck with that.” Cort muttered, tapping his ashes into the air carelessly.

“Yeah… no. I’m not going to clean it up either.” She laughed, sitting up and rolling back to her cluttered, overflowing workspace. As long as her bench was clear of random junk, she was good to go. 

“Smart answer woman. I gotta’ get this scrap heap resembling an aerocar in the near future, boy do I know it, but I think I’m going to retire early. Not feeling too great today.”

Bulma’s eye widened at his words, and she immediately rolled back out of her workspace, one eyebrow raised in surprise. This was very unlike the Cort she knew, very unlike him indeed.

“In the many years I’ve known you Cort, you’ve never left early even once. What’s up?”

“I’m getting old, that’s what’s up.” He croaked, coughing again before flicking his cigarette into a pile of scrap metal.

“You’re going to set this place on fire doing that.” She quipped halfheartedly, and he threw a dismissive hand up at her before he crawled down the bars of the future aerocar. She watched the alien as he went to his locker, grabbing his jacket and zipping it up tightly.

“It’s getting colder, I hate this time of the year.” He wheezed as he passed Bulma’s workstation. It wasn’t even _that cold_. The day had been unseasonably warm, and Cort was normally always complaining about the warmth in the garage. _He was getting sick._

She called out her goodbyes, and once again rolled back to her desk, looking down at her blueprints absentmindedly and trying to suppress the gnawing feeling of anxiety that was building up in her mind. A plague had been ravaging the city in the past few weeks, and although many species were immune, several were not. If Cort gets the plague… _god_.

It would be devastating for the company if the Tarnelian fell ill, as he was the one that worked on the big machines- dirty, labor intensive work. He had two full builds that needed to be finished within the month, and they were only half completed. No one was as quick or accurate as the cantankerous bastard, which presented a real problem if he was to be out for weeks. She would have to hire a few workers to finish the builds, possibly even _three._ They would be lucky to break even after that.

Bulma sighed, turning on an overhead light and grabbing various wires, chips and fasteners from the many compartments that covered the walls in her work area. She sat them all out with the various other components she had gathered previously, and stared at them without seeing them. She bit her lip in agitation, unable to shake the worry from her mind. If Cort had the damn plague, he could die. She would lose the co-owner of the shop, which was bad enough in itself, but she would also lose her friend- and that thought scared her just as much as any financial woes.

-

Vegeta found himself on the top of a tower, sitting on the edge of the concrete behemoth with his broken scouter at his side. He dangled one leg off the ledge, making a face at the stupid location chip she had given him, turning it over in the golden light of the setting sun and watching the white plastic flash with each rotation. His tail twitched irritably.

He had a good reason to visit her, his scouter worked, but the arm wouldn't stay in place- and it was something he really needed to have fixed before their ship was ready for departure on the following morning. He sure as shit didn’t need the distraction of a woman in his life, but having the scouter repaired on base would take weeks, and buying a new one would cost a small fortune. She was his best bet in this situation, but somehow he felt that he would be better off tossing the card right off the edge, just watch it fall away forever, and never let her cross his mind ever again.

His heart hammered as he held his hand out, his grip tentative, his mind torn. He needed to forget her, act as if she never existed… _but_. Something about the woman made him so damn _excited_. Was it the way she had looked at him? Was it the electric jolt he had felt when she touched him, shoving the damn chip into his palm so brazenly?

He wasn’t sure, but it was an emotion that he was completely unfamiliar with, not at all the same kind of rush he got from making a kill. It was a rare feeling that could possibly be explored further, if he would just scan the chip on the thin, square card.

He swallowed, gripping the piece of plastic harder, pulling it back to his chest in irritation. He was supposed to be beyond the silly, giddy emotions of a teenager in heat. After thirty-two years of training, of beating himself up and denying his base urges, he was supposed to be in complete control of himself. _But this?_ This was not control. This was a sick addiction to a drug that he had never even felt upon his tongue.

He growled, standing up on the ledge and taking a deep breath before pressing the button on his scouter, holding the lens up at eye level and impatiently going through the menu until it reached the function that recognized the chip in his palm, giving him directions to the exact location of her shop. _This was stupid, completely irresponsible._ He would be walking into a snake pit, tempted by a blue serpent that would surely strangle him. _Damn it._

He ground his teeth as he set the garage as his destination, and after several moments of stalling, he finally lifted himself up with a golden flare of energy, darting off as the bloody sun sank below the horizon.

-

Vegeta landed near the shop, far enough away so that he could assess the situation from the shadows, and keeping himself well hidden. He activated his scouter, scowling as he picked up one faint vital sign in the large building. He was desperate for the place to be empty, hoping beyond hope that it had been closed and wouldn’t reopen until he could leave the shitty rock he had the misfortune to be grounded on- preferably on his way to a purge, and as far as he could get from _her_.

But alas, he would have no such luck _. Of course not, luck never favored him_. He clenched his gloved fists tightly, his stomach turning in knots as he took off his damaged scouter, turning it around in his hands and sighing. The Saiyan narrowed his lips as he trudged forward, walking blindly into the great unknown.

-

Bulma hummed to music as she soldered tiny circuits to a motherboard, setting the connections in place with tweezers and nimble, well trained fingers. She had decided to bring her work upstairs to her apartment, which set above her workstation. It was a brighter, somewhat tidier area compared to the rest of the building, and ultimately a more comfortable place to spend her evening.

The woman took a deep breath, ready to connect a thread thin wire to the piece when a loud bell chimed, startling her and causing her to rip half of her work apart, the wires tearing from their solder and crumpling at her inadvertent jolt. She stared down at the motherboard with a mournful glare, wiping her oily hands on her work pants as she rose to heed the call.

As she walked down her stairs, the bell rang twice in a row, a shrill, unpleasant noise that made her grit her teeth in irritation. _Why_ they had installed such a wretched chime in the place that she not only worked- but called her home, was well beyond her.

“Ughh! I'm on my way!” She hollered in vain, grabbing her electric prod from her workbench just in case the late caller was looking to tangle. The bell rang again.

“Damn it, who the hell…” She murmured, making it to the customer door and looking through the peephole. The light had blown outside, and the caller was completely obscured in shadow. _She should have changed that stupid light weeks ago..._

“Who is it?” She yelled, hoping her voice carried well enough through the thick metal door.

“A…just, a customer. Open the damn door, woman.” The evening caller replied, his voice muffled. Bulma made a face, trying to recall the voice. Had she heard it recently?… _Last night. Ah_ _yes_ , _she remembered_. It was the soldier who killed her assailant, the hot, irritable alien that looked uncannily like a human with a tail. She had thought that by his tetchy demeanor that she would never see him again, and she was highly interested in what he had to say. _Very interested, indeed._

Without further questioning, she flipped the locks and flung open the door, the prod gripped tightly in her left hand as the light from her garage flooded over the caller. The man scowled at the glaring, artificial light with with a few choice words, shielding his eyes as Bulma looked him over.

He wasn’t a tall man by any means, probably her height despite the wild shock of his sooty hair, and he was _totally ripped_. Next level ripped. He possessed a V shaped body that most any man would be envious of, and one that any woman with a penchant for the male anatomy would swoon over. Despite his overly pronounced widows peak and various scars, he was quite a handsome alien- a straight nose, high cheekbones and unreadable, jet black eyes. His demeanor was less than lovely, but she couldn’t help but find herself attracted to him, and it had been a _really_ long time since she had really been attracted to anyone…

“Come in.” She greeted him, still slightly wary of his intentions as he passed over the threshold and into her sprawling dump of a shop.

“This place is a real shithole.” He remarked, his arms crossed guardedly as he surveyed the grimy garage. She gave him an unamused look before replying.

“Well, yeah. Thanks for noticing... _I guess_. Anyway, how can I help you?”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her remark, unfolding his arms and holding out a scouter with a broken lens arm.

“It's broken.” He hesitated, watching her carefully as she took the cracked technology from his hand.

"It sure is." She murmured, looking down at the scouter and assuming that the fiasco from the bar the previous night had something to do with the damaged device in her hands. 

“Well, it shouldn’t be a tough fix.” She smiled, making to walk to her work station when he spoke up.

“I can expect it to be finished early in the morning, correct? We will be heading off planet soon and I can’t leave without it.”

“You could leave it, but you could also stay while I fix it. It won’t take any more than a half an hour, I promise.” She replied, motioning for the visibly uncomfortable man to follow her to her own nook of the garage, hoping for some inexplicable reason that he would join her as she worked.

Bulma held her breath as he started to retort, opening his mouth and then closing it without comment. She could see the internal struggle written all over his face as he made his decision, grinding his teeth and scowling miserably before he finally threw a gloved hand up in defeat.

"Whatever, just make it quick." He mumbled, following her with his arms crossed and his tail wrapped tightly around his taut waist. Bulma exhaled quietly, grinning to herself when she lead the way to her workspace with the handsome, surly alien in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been planning this story out for some time, and it feels really dang good to actually have the first chapter finished.  
> I can't imagine that it will be nearly as long as Reign (likely half as long), nor will there be any major character deaths (lol). I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it so far! Its going to be a wild ride!
> 
> Ever expanding playlist for this story [ here! ](https://open.spotify.com/user/smib86/playlist/7pIjfcudu4Pnp810xNI0Mv)
> 
> A big thanks to saiyanprincessbulma and blacksheep1105 from tumblr for reading over this chapter and cheering me on!


	2. Tracer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma makes a way to keep up with the wayward Saiyan, while Vegeta can't find a way to keep the techie off his mind.

Vegeta leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed and his face stern as he glanced around the cramped, cluttered room that the woman called her workspace. How anyone could work, let alone _think straight_ in such a mess, was a true mystery. He valued orderliness, almost fastidiously, and everything about the place was leaving him on edge. _Including her._

 _She_ with her familiar Saiyan looks, jewel tone hair and ridiculous body. Her pants were fit like his own, tight and black and not leaving much to the imagination- and although she wore an oversized uniform jacket, he had no trouble discerning the figure underneath it either. It was unbuttoned to reveal a threadbare grey T-shirt with ‘ _1HORIZON_ ’ written in the universal script just over the breast, and she wore a _black bra_ underneath, pushing her tits up high for all the world to see. _Vulgar woman_.

“So, what’s your name?” The woman asked, bringing him back from his unwholesome musing. He looked over with an eyebrow raised as she sat hunched over his scouter, tinkering away at the snapped arm without looking up. He shifted, deciding on whether or not he actually wanted to humor her with an answer to that question; he wasn’t much for small talk in the slightest… _but_ , why else had he came to visit her in the first place? If it wasn’t small talk then it would be awkward silence, and that surely wouldn’t do either.

“Vegeta.”

“One name? Vegeta?” His name escaped her lips and he flicked the end of his tail. She had a heavy Akuiper accent and his name sounded like music rolling off of her tongue- and he hated himself for liking it. He especially hated that he wanted her to say it again.

“Yes.” _He lied_.

“Well, I’m sure you saw it on the card, but I’m Bulma Briefs,” She smiled, tweezering tiny wires through the broken arm of the scouter, “And you’re a soldier?”

“Something like that.” He muttered, watching her guardedly and wondering just how far she was going to pry into his private life with her idle chatter.

“Something like that, huh?”

“ _Tch_.”

“By the looks of us, seems like we had a relatively similar evolutionary background.”

He didn’t answer, but he unreservedly agreed to her statement. She looked like a female Saiyan in every aspect but her hair and eyes, and her obvious absence of a tail…

“So, what species are you?” She asked, looking back at him questioningly. He made a face at her, his tail flicking in agitation as she continued to stare at him.

“I’m a Saiyan, and what does it matter anyway? Do you question all of your customers so intensely?” He complained, raising an eyebrow at her as she laughed amiably, a charming sound that he heard so rarely.

“Not often, but then again most of my customers aren’t nearly as handsome as you.” She grinned, looking back down at her work as Vegeta turned his head in embarrassment, his cheeks going red and eyes wide as he fought to compose himself after her brazen words. She had admitted her attraction to him, and that would not do at all. He caught himself thinking of her once again, imagining what her flesh would feel like under his bare hands, how their warmth would mingle as her form pressed against his; and what would her skin would taste like under his lips? _Oh, damn that woman. Damn her._

Vegeta momentarily toyed with the thought of leaving, awkwardly escaping the trap she had caught him in, and _fuck the scouter_. He could buy a new one.

It never ceased to amaze him, knowing that he was a man that could go into battle with teeth bared in pure exhilaration, he could display all the cocky arrogance in the world to most anyone, but all it took to make that confidence crumble to the ground was a brazen woman with a pretty face. _And Bulma Briefs took the goddamn cake._

Bulma began to hum along to music coming from the room above, and after he felt the heat leave his face he turned back to her cautiously, relieved when he noticed her working diligently. She was too busy prodding at the scouter and soldering wires to notice his humiliation, and he observed her jostling the tiny pieces of metal back into the thin casing without any trouble. He could tell that she had done this before, _many times._

“I know most of Frieza’s men go to the certified mechanics on the base, but you’d be surprised how many broken scouters come through here.” She mumbled, turning the technology up and inspecting the work that she had finished so far. He narrowed his eyes, guessing that most of the pathetic fools came all the way out to this part of the city just to see her. _Just like he had._

“Akuiper is the largest maintenance hub for the army, it’s busy and overcrowded. Many of the men would have to wait weeks to get their scouters fixed through the base.”

“Weeks? _Damn_ , I’m surprised they don’t just hand out new ones instead of making you all wait that long.”

“We have to pay for our own equipment and maintenance, the men in charge don’t just hand expensive technology out like it’s charity.” Vegeta grumbled, leaning his head back against the wall.

“Seriously? You would think the emperor of the largest galactic army in the galaxy would shell out enough change to buy and maintain his soldiers’ damn equipment.” She looked over at him with her eyebrows drawn, and he shrugged.

“It makes the men take care of their own shit.”

She nodded her head in impartial acceptance, piecing the brittle metal shell together for soldering.

“Do you stay in the barracks?”

“Not this time, there was no room. My subordinates and I are staying in a hostel, a _shitty_ hostel at that.”

“Most of them are shitty in this town.” She gave him a dry laugh, and he shifted awkwardly again.

“ _Tch_ , you’re not wrong.”

-

The woman soldered the metal together, taking a flat tool behind the loose chunks to make the work nearly seamless; a touch that Vegeta silently appreciated. After she had finished, she held the scouter under the light once again, inspecting it closely as his jaw tightened. Fifteen minutes, _fifteen damn minutes was all it had taken for her to fix the scouter_. It wasn’t enough time…

“Looks good, let me power it up to make sure it works,” Bulma murmured, turning the scouter on until the red lens flashed with light, “Is it up to date?”

“No.” _He lied again_. He was uncomfortable, his acute senses assaulted with the stench of oil and fuel, and his quota for idle chitchat had far been surpassed for the day; but he didn’t want to leave her. _Not yet._

“Okay, I’ll connect it to the grid, put your PIN number in,” Bulma replied, rolling backwards and handing him the neatly repaired scouter, “it’ll take about ten minutes or so since we have terrible grid service.”

Vegeta nodded absently, entering his PIN number into the device before leaning forward to hand it back to her. He watched with subdued amusement as Bulma fitted his scouter on her ear, adjusting the lens to her eye easily, and he couldn’t help but think that she looked suited to wearing the damn thing. _Like she was a warrioress._

“Alright, let’s see.” Bulma murmured to herself as she scrolled through the menu, finally finding the right setting and deftly pressing a sequence of numbers into the keypad on the side of her head.

Vegeta knitted his brows together as she overhauled the system, and it suddenly occurred to him that she shouldn’t be able to update the scouter at all. It should have been regulated strictly to military technicians to do any updating…

“How do you know the update sequence?” He questioned, and she winked at him with the eye that wasn’t obscured by the red lens.

“It’s a secret.” She cooed, taking the scouter from her ear and setting it on the table with a cheeky smile. He gave her a dirty look, truly curious as to how she could possibly know the most up to date military coding, when she interrupted his train of thought.

“About ten minutes,” She blurted, turning her swiveling seat to face him, “So, you’re not an ordinary foot soldier huh? Your equipment is too nice for a piss-on, are you a purger?”

“A what?”

“One who purges.”

“ _Wow_ , how’d you ever guess.” Vegeta snorted sarcastically as Bulma stretched her arms over her head with a yawn, “And the exact title is _Eradicator._ ”  

“ _Ohoho_ , how original. An _Eradicator._ ” She mocked, making a face of exaggerated terror.

“I didn’t say it was a good name.” He shrugged, hiding the grin that threatened to reveal itself on his lips. The woman really didn’t give a fuck, and oddly, he found her attitude endearing. _Very Saiyan_.

“So, you go into work, punch your time card and kill thousands of people in a day’s work? Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It’s usually millions or billions, and _no_. It’s my job, and I’m _very_ good at it.” He hissed as she grimaced, ready to retort when he held a gloved finger up.

“You’ve asked enough questions.”

“Then ask me one.”

Vegeta stared at her as if she were mad, and she smiled slyly as he exhaled, his mind racing. _This_ was just not something that he did- he didn’t chatter, because he typically didn’t care. What kind of stupid question was he supposed to ask her, anyway?

He suddenly recalled her hands from the other night, and how her fingers had been stained with an odd indigo coloring. It was a genuine question.

“Why…are your hands stained?” He hesitated, and Bulma laughed.

“Oh,” She grinned, pulling a beat-up leather glove off and throwing it to the table, holding her bare hand up for him to see “I often work with parts that are covered in _ebricating_ oil, and it doesn’t seem to matter if I wear the gloves or not, they always get stained. This shit doesn’t come off, _ever_.”

“Ah, noted,” He nodded, trying to think of something relatable for the sake of the conversation, “I’ve come across blood like that. The kind that doesn’t wash away.”

She gave him an incredulous look, shaking her head slowly as Vegeta tried to wrap his head around her negative reaction.

“What?”

“That’s just gross, and… _evil_. You’re evil, you know. Killing all those people.” She yawned again, clearly not too perturbed by his perceived wickedness as she laid further back in her seat. He raised an eyebrow at her, his tail flicking as she waved her hand at him, but to do what? Ask more questions? The gesture irritated him, and he snapped at her.

“What does that mean!?”

“God, you are hopeless…It means to keep asking questions, I asked you,” She sighed dramatically, spinning in her chair, “Like five, or six?”

Vegeta made a face, but decided to humor her against his better judgement. Maybe not five questions, but a few more anyhow.

“Do your people have tails?”

 “Does it look like we do?” Bulma scoffed, scrunching her face up and motioning dramatically to the bottom she was still sitting on. _She was infuriating._ He had asked his damn question and now she was being uncooperative.

“Well, I thought that maybe _it_ came off _when the leg did_.” He growled irritably, and she immediately sat upright, giving him a dark, unamused grin before turning to her bench. He was no expert in reading people, but he could clearly discern the disdain on her face.

“That’s a story for another day.” She huffed, grabbing his scouter, checking that it had processed before rolling back over to the perplexed Saiyan. Vegeta looked down in bewilderment as she shoved the technology in his gloved hands, causing him to conjure up another question; _why the fuck was she reacting like this?_

 “Goodnight _Vegeta_ , I’m going to grab a smoke and hit the hay.” Bulma announced, standing and stretching her arm behind her head with a pop and a pained grimace.

“Do what?”

“Hit the hay, it’s an idiom from my planet. It means _I’m going to bed_ , I get up very early and I’m dog tired.” She gave him a weak smile as he dropped his arms, and Vegeta tried to conjure up words of some sort, finally settling with a reluctant nod as he followed her to the door. He had fucked up, which wasn’t anything new in his track record with the opposite sex. _He was who he was._

She punched the locks and threw open the door, holding her arm out as if she was presenting him with a prize rather than just showing him the junkyard outside of the garage.

“See you around, _Eradicator._ ” Bulma finally grinned, punching his arm playfully as he gave her a confused scowl; It was a surprising, positive switch from her former flare of angst. _The woman was unreadable._

Vegeta finally looked away from her, sauntering out into the shadows before stopping momentarily, giving her a tetchy side eye. Would he ever see her again? It was unlikely _, incredibly unlikely_ , as the next time the ship was docked for any sort of maintenance it would likely be countless lightyears away, or possibly galaxies away. There was a chance that he may never step foot on Akuiper ever again, and really it was pointless to even answer her. But, he decided to give her his last words anyhow, a closure to the strange, unsettling infatuation he held for her.

“That’s not my name, woman…” He hesitated, watching her in the doorway, her arm up on the frame and giving him a coy smile as she waved. He imagined himself turning back to her, holding her in the shadows of the building and running his hands over her hourglass curves, growling into her neck as she whispered his name in his ear _and…_ what?

Vegeta could never bring himself to make an actual move without blushing with shame… and that wouldn’t do, not with her. He took a deep breath, committing the current image of the woman to his memory before he turned away from her once again, taking off into the hazy night sky in a brilliant flash of gold.

-

Bulma pulled a cigarette and lighter from her breast pocket as he took off, and she wondered how he got away with flight in a grounded city. To be able to do so without the cops all over his ass meant that he was likely higher-up than what she had first expected, not one of the typical pissant soldiers at all. She flipped the switch on her lighter and held the flame to her cigarette, taking her first drag. She was immediately hit with a satisfying rush of nicotine that she had been craving since before the Saiyan had arrived, and she exhaled a plume of smoke into the cool night, trying in vain to figure the man out.

For the most part, Bulma had no problem reading men, however this _Vegeta_ \- He was a mystery, an awkward soldier of few words and many thoughts. She could practically see his mind working over every question she asked, and he was careful, cautious, _concise_. He didn’t reveal anything that he didn’t want her to know.

But he was also easily embarrassed, a trait that totally surprised her. The majority of soldiers displayed no shame whatsoever, especially not the ones who purged entire species from the galaxy- but clearly, he was no ordinary man. He had blushed like a boy when she had called him handsome, like he was trying to hide something, or to suppress something?

Bulma wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but she found his arrogant nature coupled with a sheepish streak oddly endearing. He was a killer, a mass murderer in the name of Freiza of the Cold dynasty, and yet he couldn’t take a compliment from a woman without falling to pieces. _Cute._

Bulma took one last long drag, exhaling before smashing the cigarette out on the side of the garage, putting the half-spent cylinder back into her pack for a later smoke. She latched the door shut, turning all the locks once again and setting the alarm before she paced back to her workbench. She glanced around with a tired sigh, shutting the lights off in the small nook.

The man had asked her about her leg, sort of a sore spot- definitely not something she was ready to talk about with a stranger for sure. They would have to get to know one another better before she disclosed anything as personal as that incident, and to know him better she would have to be able to contact him, to know when he was visiting the city.

He had told her his scouter wasn’t updated, and the Saiyan had clearly thought her a moron, since the device was obviously up to date. So, she had played him like a fool instead, coding a tracer and hotline straight into his scouter, right under his nose.

She laughed to herself as she walked up the stairs to her room, wondering how he would react when she buzzed in randomly, reporting that he was within the ten-lightyear tracing perimeter, and that he should come visit her soon- so that she could update his scouter again. _Oh, that would be golden._

One of two outcomes would happen- he would either blow up in anger and get the scouter wiped, never talking to her again- or he would find her disturbingly charming and perhaps humor her. It would be one or the other, and despite her better judgement ( _he was a mass murdering soldier, after all_ ), she wished for the latter. He was familiar, as close to a human as she had seen in the ten years of being stranded on the unfortunate planet of Opalian- and she needed that familiarity more than she would ever admit.  

-

Bulma Briefs wasn’t at all a morning person, and dragging herself out of bed before the sun crowned over the horizon was not her ideal of a decent wake up time; but it didn’t matter. Cort came in to work at the ass-crack of dawn, and he didn’t care at all to make noise, so it was best to roll out and be ready to work by the time he waddled in.

She was in the process of brushing her teeth when her handheld buzzed on the sink, and she looked down in surprise, her stomach turning in knots as she read the words that she had feared the most.

_‘Got plague, not coming in’_

“ _Fulck_ ” Bulma murmured through the foam of the toothpaste, brushing her teeth even harder before she spat in the sink, grabbing a quick rinse from the spigot and picking the handheld up with wet hands. She stared at the screen for what felt like ages, her face contorting and displaying the many stages of grief before she reluctantly accepted the news. He was down with the plague as she had expected, but regardless, it was devastating on multiple levels.

_‘Do you need me stop and get you all some antiviral pills?’_

Bulma tapped the glass, watching the screen intently for a reply. She exhaled when the handheld pinged.

_‘No, already have them. Thanks. I’ve contacted the customers, they are pulling out of the build. I’ve refunded them through the store account.’_

_Oh shit._ A huge blow, tons of income gone.

_‘Alright, that’s a bummer. Get well soon & keep me up to date. Let me know if you need anything.’_

Bulma exhaled as she sat the phone back down on the sink, lowering her head in defeat. It wasn’t going to be easy, and as much as she tried to keep the illegal work to a minimum, she had to make more income than what the garage would be pulling in for the next month. Hacking and wrenching, two of her most guilty pleasures, would be resurfacing in full force.

-

Wrenching was its own beast, a game to Bulma, and a thorn in the sides of her victims. Remotely hacking into racing vehicles to throw the figurative ‘ _wrench into’_ their literal ‘ _works_ ’ was a most illegal form of sabotage, but boy- _did it ever pay well._

It paid so well, in fact, that two fateful nights ago she had agreed to a shady business meeting with two equally as shady men in _The Groggy Gorchik_. Bulma had checked them out on the grid, did some heavy digging, found the typical criminal backgrounds associated with men that liked to cheat the system- and she was entirely sure that the two weren’t the law. But, she had felt there was something _off_ about the situation from the very start.  

She really wasn’t sure she wanted to go through with the meeting at first, but the promise of a cool 1000c down payment had won out, and ultimately, she agreed to talk shop with them. She didn’t need anyone to know where she worked (or where she lived, for that matter) so she had told them she would meet them in any public area- which in hindsight, was her biggest mistake. The bar they chose was a hotspot for criminals and rogues, and no one in that _fine_ establishment gave one shit about a kidnapping going down within its wretched walls.

Bulma wasn’t sure if the thugs had been paid to abduct her, a pending retribution from one of the hoodwinked victims of a past wrenching, or if they knew of her incredible hacking skills and were going to force her to work under them as a _tech thrall_ \- a _very_ unfortunate fate to be avoided at all costs. Either way, though, she hadn’t been captured thanks to the brooding Saiyan that had unintentionally saved her from a bleak end. But somehow, she didn’t think it was coincidence that they had met under such odd circumstances either.

Vegeta had tried to ignore her, belittled her, was ready to push her out of the way when she ran in front of him- hell, he could have just taken off with that ridiculous, unexplainable energy that only the strongest beings possessed- _but he didn’t_. He had become speechless when he laid eyes on her for the first time, his face overtook with subdued, yet obvious shock that she couldn’t quite figure out.

Bulma had, however, felt something mysterious that night when she had pressed her location chip into the soldier’s glove. It was a bizarre feeling, like the entire situation had been meant to happen, and it wasn’t by chance that she had been in the wrong place at the right time.

When she was growing up, her mother would often tell her that _‘things happened for a reason, sweetie’,_ and Bulma would roll her eyes at the stupid phrase. Reality was random and chaotic, and she had always though that fate was a fairytale made up by those that were too scared to accept the haphazardness of the universe… But _,_ now, for the first time in her life she knew that something inexplicable had been set into motion… and it scared the shit out of her, absolutely baffling her rational, scientific mind.

-

Vegeta breathed heavily of the acrid, smoke filled air as black alien blood dripped from his face, his arms and his fists, overall staining a good portion of his body. He was still sweating from intense battle as he stood on a pile of the dead, insectile aliens, and he scanned the perimeter fruitlessly for any remaining life. The purge had been successful, but the species had been fighters to the very end. The bastards had fought tooth and nail for their planet, and as a result, he was exhausted for the first time in a long time.

Nappa landed heavily next to Vegeta, crushing the exoskeleton of a fresh corpse as he joined the prince on the gory, stinking pile. He cracked his neck as he watched the younger Saiyan, his arms crossed in the normal fashion, and his tail still wrapped tightly as in battle, despite the fact that the entire species had all but been eradicated.

“I’ve done scans of this sector, nothing coming up aside from animal life.” Nappa yawned, stretching his bloodied arms over his head exhaustedly. He was ready to retire to his room for a beer and pay-per-view porn, and he rolled his eyes when Vegeta ignored his statement.

“This is the last sector by the way. We can go anytime…”

“I’m well aware. I just took care of _this_.” Vegeta growled, motioning to the pile of broken bodies below. He spat disgustedly, sickened by the taste in his mouth- the alien blood was bitter and foul, and the stench of the ichor was making him increasingly irate.

“You got all these fuckers’ just now? Without Radz? Where is he, anyway?” Nappa asked with a hint of surprise in his voice that Vegeta didn’t care for.

“Good question, probably out somewhere fucking himself. And _yes, Nappa_ , is it so hard to believe I took these pathetic creatures out on my own?” Vegeta snapped, causing the bald Saiyan to shake his head ruefully.

“No, Vegeta, that’s not what I meant. I just mea…”

“Doesn’t matter. Go find Raditz, then burn this trash. This extermination is through.” Vegeta interrupted the larger Saiyan before taking off into the apocalyptic sky without another word.

-

Vegeta stood under the cool water of the shower, letting the alien ichor wash off his skin in putrid black streams. He scrubbed himself diligently with soap and cloth, making sure to remove every trace of the foul shit from his body and hair, and he was pleased to find that the blood didn’t stain. He couldn’t help but be reminded of _her_ \- the alien woman with stained fingers, the one that didn’t like thinking of the blood of aliens on his hands.

He assumed she would have been quite disgusted by the story of him fighting like a beast, bathing in black blood and finally being relieved that the shit didn’t stain his skin. He grinned to himself as he stood facing the stream, shaking his head slowly as he tried to chase away her face. It had been weeks since he had visited her, and he sure as shit didn’t need her on his mind again.

Vegeta turned the shower off with a sigh, shaking his thick shock of hair and wringing the excess water from the fur on his tail before stepping out onto the mat. He grabbed his towel from the rung and finished the process of drying off, his mind gearing up when it should have been cooling down. He kept thinking about the night he visited her, how she had looked standing in the door, grinning at him like she _knew_ he was thinking about pulling his gloves off right then and there…running his hands under her shirt, begging for her to whisper his name again in that irresistible accent of hers…

“ _Goddamnit_.” He cursed irritably, wrapping the towel around his waist as he passed the other shower stalls, two of which were occupied by Nappa and Raditz. They prattled mindlessly as their prince padded by unseen, and Vegeta made it out of the bathroom without having to speak to them. _Fucking good._

He didn’t feel like talking, he didn’t feel like resting or eating or sleeping; in the moment, he had one singular need- _release,_ and he needed to hide within the private confines of his room to achieve it. Although he _loathed_ his base urges, the sexual needs frustrated him in an ever-increasing frequency, and he found himself alone with his hand and his shame much more often than he felt was acceptable. He hated the thoughts, hated his weakness, and mostly he despised the act that needed to be performed to satiate himself. _It was just so damn disgraceful…_

Vegeta threw open the door to his small dorm room, slamming it behind himself as the lights flashed on from his presence.

“Welcome.” A robot voice sang.

“Fuck you.” Vegeta retorted disinterestedly, walking over to his dresser and checking for any messages on his scouter before he turned around, a sense of sickening dread blended with a disturbing excitement flooding his consciousness. The Saiyan sighed, looking down at the bed; it was tidy, clean, and small _._ Made for one, of course. Soldiers weren’t allowed mates on their ships, so why would the bed need to be any bigger than a single?

“Turn off the lights.” He growled at the room, and the lights obediently flipped off, revealing only dim glowing slits running across the floor. He crawled into the bed, his body exhausted and his mind racing as he lay down on top of the linens, listening absently to the slight hum of the engine as the ship barreled through space.

-

Bulma laid in the center of her messy bed, she had showered and threw on her pajamas, and she curled up in the plush, mauve comforter like she was enveloped in a large cocoon. She made a sour face as she scrolled through her glass tablet, _no replies_ … _no leads_ … She hadn’t gotten anything at all from her middle man, and so the illegal side work had been nearly nonexistent; only a few, low paying jobs had been presented, and they weren’t worth the risk. It wouldn’t be too long before she would be running on the bare minimum of credits, rent still needed to be paid, and she still needed to eat.

Bulma resigned herself to another disappointing night of overlooking the slim pickings, and began absently reading news headlines when a loud chime startled her. Her eyes widened in surprise when a message popped up on her tablet screen, and she exhaled in disbelief.

_TRACER #54809-67-A-62 HAS BEEN DETECTED IN THE PERIMETER_

He was within range, _finally_. She had thought about Vegeta often in the weeks since they had parted, musings in which she knew were absolutely ridiculous. It was behavior more typical of a naïve schoolgirl than a grown-ass woman, but nonetheless, she couldn’t help her senseless excitement. She only knew that she wanted to see him again, even if he was a cantankerous bastard.  

Bulma grinned impishly, tossing the tablet on the foot of the bed and untangling herself from her cocoon gracelessly. She ran to a cluttered cabinet beside of her front door and pulled out a large box from one of the shelves. She rummaged through the container, throwing a ratty plush cat, a battered Rubik’s cube and other random memorabilia to the floor haphazardly until she found a black case.

“ _Biiingo_ ” Bulma hissed wickedly as she skipped back to her bed, and she jumped into the nest that was left from her former cocoon.

Bulma tore open the case, taking out a bootleg scouter, its frame made of cheap plastic and its lens a garish pink that was not at all to military standard. She pulled the charging cord from its cradle, plugging one end into the earpiece and the other into the outlet near her bed, and happily, the scouter came to life after years of abandonment.

She pressed the earpiece to her head, adjusting the lens haphazardly in her eagerness, and she synced the scouter wirelessly to her tablet.

“Okay, oh boy. Okay…work, damn you.” She mumbled to herself, her heart racing giddily as she fumbled with the keypad, setting up the link so that she could call the Saiyan. She fidgeted with the charging cord in anticipation, curling it around her fingers and holding her breath when the connection finally went through, and her scouter sent out a signal to his.

She bit her lower lip as the device rang, exhaling only when the receiver on his end had been triggered- but there was no greeting.

_“Hello?”_

-

Vegeta stretched his arms behind his damp hair, staring blankly at the dark ceiling and contemplating on whether or not he wanted to go through with the shameful act, until he finally clenched his jaw in frustration and defeat. He wasn’t going to get any damn sleep unless he took care of himself, not tonight, regardless of his physical exhaustion. _He was losing control of himself, for the love of the gods._

The Saiyan exhaled, removing one hand from behind his head and reluctantly sliding it down his body and over the towel, feeling his erection already beginning to stiffen beneath the fabric. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he thought of touching her, of her _touching him_ \- a feeling that he craved, one that he hadn’t experienced in gods only knew how many years.

_They lay on their sides, in a large bed that didn’t exist outside of his imagination. Indigo fingers traced over his bare skin, and he shivered under their unfamiliar touch. She smiled at him, the same coy smile she had given him the night he had visited her. The woman leaned over and whispered in his ear, words with no meaning, her breath warm and sweet and causing the hair on his neck and tail to bristle excitedly while her hands explored lower. She traced mottled digits over his hip bones, just over the waist of his pants which made him lean into her eagerly, throwing one arm behind her back, urging her closer to him as he raised his other hand to touch her hair…_

Vegeta stalled his stroke, slightly embarrassed with himself when he couldn’t imagine anything that would be similar to what her hair would feel like. He had never seen anything quite like it, shiny and long, flowing down over her shoulders in blue waves… and he immediately thought of water. He knew that her hair wouldn’t feel like water, that was just absolutely fucking _stupid_ \- but it was the only familiar touch he could conjure at the moment.

_The woman guided her thumbs under either side of the elastic, and he helped her pull his pants down and over his erection. She spoke again, but like before, her words were alien, a dialect he had never heard before, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was saying in that flowing, unfamiliar language. The woman teased his length with her fingers before wrapping one hand around his cock, tugging it slowly as he ran his hands through her hair, pulling her closer to him as he breathed in deeply of her scent. She stroked him harder, and he placed his teeth on her neck, not daring to bite down into her delicate flesh, but longing to nip and suck and…._

Vegeta’s scouter vibrated, the blinking red light illuminating the room in an eerie, crimson wash as it screeched out short bursts of obnoxious beeps that broke Vegeta’s concentration immediately.

“A fucking call, right now. _Of course_.” He snarled, producing a threatening, deep rumble in his throat as he reached back behind his head to the nightstand, fumbling only momentarily for the shrieking scouter before he pulled it to his face.

He set the tech on his ear, adjusting the lens and accepting the call, expecting the voice of a general to be yelling, pissed off at the number natural resources they had destroyed on a purge last week, or how many bodies they had forgotten to burn…

“Hello?” A woman questioned, a light and chipper sound that he wasn’t at all expecting. His mouth gaped as he quickly realized who the voice belonged to, and he couldn’t find the words to answer her.

“Hey, you, Vegeta? You’re within ten lightyears of Akuiper, planet Opalian 1108- I don’t know if I’m talking to a messaging system or…”

“How did you? How are?” Vegeta finally stammered in shock, sitting up and forgetting all about his private session.

“Oh, you’re actually there!”

Vegeta stared ahead in the dark, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on when it dawned on him. She had put a goddamn tracer on his scouter during its “ _repair_ ”. _Shit._

“You put a goddamn tracer on my scouter.” He repeated his thought out loud, a hint of anger flaring up in his tone. She laughed, a tinkling, genuine laugh that he remembered fondly from that damn night two weeks prior.

“Guilty as charged, _Eradicator ._ ”

He exhaled, his heart rate decreasing as he grasped the situation, and he ran an anxious hand through his course, thick hair.

“You could be executed for that shit.” He warned halfheartedly, and she made a ‘ _tsk_ ’ sound.

“You’re not going to send me to the gallows, oh _Eradicator_! Not little poor little me!” She mocked, and he shook his head in exasperation.

“Woman, what in the actual fuck do you _want_?” He hissed, suddenly surprised by the coincidence that he would be thinking of her so intimately at the same time she had called him.

“You’re within ten lightyears of Opalian, I was just thinking…”

“No, you weren’t fucking thinking. This is being traced by Frieza’s tech guys now…”

“Don’t make me laugh, no one’s going to be able to trace _my_ overhaul- not even the WTO lackeys. You don’t give me enough credit, Mr. Vegeta.” She barked a dry laugh, and he grinned to himself. Obviously, he wasn’t giving her enough credit at all. It still pissed him off, however.

“Whatever, but you…. what makes you think it was ok to put this shit on my scouter? What the fuck were you thinking, I’m an elite…”

“If you were actually upset you would have already dropped the call, handsome.” Bulma interrupted him with a crooning voice, and he sat with his mouth gaping, unable to retort. He could hang up now, prove his point, _but_ …

“Anyhow, I was thinking you could swing by, chat with me again,” She proposed, and he grit his teeth. “I can tell you what to break on your ship, if you need an excuse.”

She was too clever… _too clever_. Vegeta had no idea how to respond to her, and while he wanted very much to _chat_ with her again- he also wanted to avoid her like the plague. She was trouble. She was… _too much._

“I don’t…” He trailed, closing his eyes as his mind raced. He couldn’t say yes, he couldn’t agree…fuck that, fuck her for the tracer- just get the thing wiped, better yet, call the Akuiper law enforcement on her hacker ass…

“Yes.” He rasped miserably, rubbing the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slowly. _Idiot. He was a fucking idiot for this._

“Yes? Yes, as in you’re going to stop by?” She questioned him, irritating him further.

“What the fuck do you think? Yes, I’ll stop by, for a short time. I’ve got work to do…”

“People to kill, I get it. You should be here by sunrise, or a little after depending on your ship, what kind of engine core does it have?” Bulma asked in complete sincerity, and Vegeta only gave her silence. What the fuck did he know about the damn ship? It was maintained regularly, got him from point A to point B and that’s all he gave a shit about.

“I’ll get there when I get there.” He replied crossly, and Bulma sighed.

“Fine, then I’ll see you in the morning?”

“No… I don’t know. Like I said I’ll get there when…”

“I need you to help me out with something heavy. My business partner has been out and…”

“I don’t care.”

“Promise me” She insisted, and he sat in a moment of silence, his lips narrowed as he ground his jaw and composed his thoughts. _He wasn’t promising shit._

“I’m not promising shit.” He growled, shutting the scouter off and sighing audibly. _Damn, damn. Damn that woman._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, thanks for reading!  
> Also, just a friendly reminder to those that are très thirsty-that this story will bekind of a slow burn (I was gonna make it slower, but decided not to) oh(!), and If you think that Geet's 'naughty' thoughts are relatively innocent- it's because they really are ;)
> 
> No beta for this chapter.


	3. A Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma is surprised when Vegeta shows up at her garage. He helps her out, and they play a drinking game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeknownst to me there was a one-shot written last year which included Vegeta breaking his own scouter to visit Bulma in her shop in space (I honestly, hand to God- had no idea), and out of respect to the author I have changed the way that his scouter breaks to lessen that similarity (now it falls and the arm cracks during the bar skirmish scene). Also, as far as the other fic that was mentioned (that shared similarities) was a Gohan x Videl fic where Pan has a mechanical leg, and as far as I know the stories shared no other similarity other than that (I don’t feel that warrants a change, as there are a lot of characters out there with mechanical legs). If anyone ever finds anything in any of my fics that share close, side-eye warranting similarities, please message me on tumblr and tell me (I promise I don’t bite!) and I’ll be more than happy to change things in the fic (If it warrants it). I honestly don’t have a lot of time to read many fics (I spend my free time drawing, writing and spending time with my husband), and the last thing I want to do is make something that is very similar to work that has already been made. Also, thanks to all my wonderful readers for being you, you guys are my inspiration, and you are the best <3

The twin moons of Opalian hung low in the hazy indigo sky, and Vegeta stood in the docking bay with his arms crossed irritably. Apparently, his ship was better than Bulma had thought it was, since the craft arrived in Akuiper an hour before dawn. It hummed to silence as the engines cooled, and the prince exhaled heavily, his breath coming out in a plume of vapor as Nappa and Raditz chattered loudly, exiting the craft behind Vegeta.

“I’m not going back to that place, _ever_.” Raditz hissed, and Nappa boomed with laughter, shattering the unearthly predawn silence exclusive to the fading night.

“You can’t handle those ladies Radz? They too much for you, you little _baby boy_?”

“Fuck yes they are, _old man_. I was sore for the last two weeks after that shit.”

“What the fuck are you two depraved assholes talking about?” Vegeta growled, looking over his shoulder at the two taller men approaching him.

“The massage parlor on Yunzabit Avenue, the best goddamn place in this city. Those big lizard ladies will walk on your back, squeeze their lovely, supple toes right into your tightest muscles. It’s truly a spiritual experience.” Nappa gushed as Raditz hissed in disapproval.

“It’s a nightmare. A pure nightmare.” The wild maned Saiyan muttered, rolling his popping shoulder to emphasize his disdain.

“You two are disgusting.” Vegeta mumbled, diverting his attention from his subordinates before Nappa amiably clapped the shorter Saiyan on his shoulder, much to the prince's disdain.

“Anyhow, fearless leader, how long are we in town for?” Nappa asked, removing his hand with a nervous laugh as Vegeta gave him an irate side eye.

“No more than a night. If the barracks are full, get one room for me, and one for you two dipshits. I’m finished bunking with you fools. Just send me the coordinates, otherwise don’t bother me. I’ve got business to deal with.” Vegeta murmured, dismissing his two subordinates with a flippant wave.

He glared back up at the increasingly cloudy sky, taking a deep breath and scenting rain in the atmosphere- rain _or_ sleet. It was at that nasty temperature where it could be either, and he just knew it would be the latter. It would be his luck.

-

_Cort, let me know when you need supplies or groceries. I’ll be happy to stop by anytime._

Bulma tapped at the screen, sending the message off to her afflicted business partner. Cort was still out for the count, but at least he was alive. Bulma had texted him every other day since he had fallen ill, and had taken him supplies on two occasions. She suspected she would be taking him another bundle of goods before the week was out, but so far, he hadn’t asked for anything.

_Still good today, well- not good. Still feel shitty, but I don’t need supplies yet. I’ll let you know. Thanks._

Bulma read the text and sighed, sipping from her mug of warm tea as she sat in front of the one large window in her apartment. She looked out of the slatted blinds at the cold, grey drizzle and watched a large, hunched over alien shamble down the sidewalk in the miserable conditions outside.

She could see the open sores and boils on his wide, bloated face and the parts of his arms that were exposed, and she shook her head with a sigh. It was likely that in his advanced stage of the plague, his organs would shut down and he would soon die. She took another sip of her tea and shook her head slowly, thankful that the human species couldn’t contract the horrible sickness which had crippled half of the residents in Akuiper. 

-

After she had finished her tea, Bulma opened her apartment door with a yawn, immediately closing it back when the frigid air from the garage came swirling into her cozy living area. Running heat in the entire building would be a huge drain on the old wallet, so she decided that she was going to get as much work done as possible within the confines of her apartment. It would be like this at least until the winter was over, or until she could make enough ill gained credits to power the whole shop.

If the Saiyan didn’t show up, she would have to drag parts and tools up the stairs in small loads, and she really didn’t want to have to deal with that. Instead, she had hoped for the best and had piled the most important items that she could access in a large crate, which would double as a table once it was hauled into her apartment.

In the meantime, Bulma sat down at the desk next to her door, and she tinkered with a broken hologram projector, opening the console and running her fingers over the wires to check for any loose or burnt out connections. She loosened up the hard drive with a tiny screwdriver, ready to pull it out when she heard a startling, shrill ring blast through the room. _The customer doorbell._

“Oh shit.” She breathed, her mind racing as she set the projector down and stood from her chair. Surely, no one else would be calling this early. No one else but him… _Surely._

Bulma’s heart began to gallop as she ran to the threshold of her room, slipping on a pair of shoes before bursting out of the door, slamming it behind herself recklessly and causing something to fall inside of her apartment. Her mind was too preoccupied with the hope that one alien in particular had heeded her call, that she all but ignored the damp chill as she raced down the stairs and to the customer entrance on the other side of the garage.

Bulma slid into the main hall before she stopped in her tracks, taking a deep breath and creeping up to the door, peeking out of the peephole with bated breath. She exhaled, and her face lit up when she saw that the caller she had hoped for stood on the other side of the thick metal, his arms crossed, his face a bad-tempered scowl and his gravity defying hair sagging comically from the wintry precipitation. He was soaked through and through and looked absolutely miserable.

When she had spoken with him via the tracer, his tone had been angry and hesitant, and he had hung up on her- an indicator that he likely wouldn’t show. But despite his ambivalence, he _had shown_. Bulma hadn’t been so happy to see anyone in a very long time, and the giddy feeling surprised her. She had only met the man twice, and briefly, at that.

She punched all three of the locks which hissed as the mechanisms turned, and she threw the door open wide, giving the unamused Saiyan a surprise with her haste.

“Hey Eradicator.”

-

Vegeta stared at her as she smiled charmingly, shocked at himself for feeling a jolt of exhilaration and a hint of nerves when he saw her face so suddenly once again. It was almost like the first night he had met her, and how she had rendered him nearly speechless, slack jawed and behaving foolishly because of her resemblance to his nearly expired species. But this time his surprise stemmed from his previous resolution that she was an unattainable dream, one that he would never experience in the real world ever again- and yet, he had sought her out and returned to her, the brilliant jewel in the shithole that was Akuiper.

Instead of dirty work clothes, she wore a black tank top underneath a pink jumper which hung off of one shoulder, revealing delicate collarbones and a silver necklace with a large metal ring dangling from the chain. Her pants were the same as before, tight and black, and her hair was tousled back in a loose braid. _How had such a gorgeous creature ended up in goddamn Akuiper…_

“You okay?” She finally asked, waving a hand in front of his face and bringing him back from his thoughts. He managed a “ _Hmpf_ ” and a quick nod before raising one eyebrow irritably when she motioned for him to enter the garage. He wanted to get out of the sleet, the worst of all the weather in his opinion, but he didn’t want to step foot inside of the stinking building again… _the trap._

Vegeta inhaled anxiously as he put a muddied boot over the threshold, finally exhaling when both feet were on the other side, and she closed the door behind them, turning the locks one by one. He swallowed hard as his eyes adjusted to the artificial lights overhead, and he started to speak when she opened her mouth.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you would show.” She shrugged, throwing her braid back behind her shoulder as he stared at her, his hair and tail dripping water onto the garage floor. She grinned at him, a mocking look that he didn’t much care for- but he knew that he _did_ look ridiculous. His normally gravity defying hair was likely hanging down unhappily at every odd angle.

“I didn’t either.” He murmured, wanting more than anything to shake his head and remove the frigid water and pellets of sleet from his mane. Instead, he stood before her, silent and obedient as she cocked her head at him and narrowed her eyes like she was looking at a bizarre insect. _Like she was trying to figure him out…_

“Here, follow me. You’ve got to be freezing. I’ll grab a towel for you.” She finally insisted, pulling gently at his forearm. He looked down at her mottled fingers in surprise, her uninvited touch making his skin tingle in a nervous excitement. He wasn’t sure that he wanted her to touch him, not here- _not now_. A gentle touch was not familiar territory, and it was something he needed to process before he could accept it.

He withdrew his arm from her grasp, slowly and deliberately and she gave him the same puzzled, irritating look she had given him moments prior.  He knitted his eyebrows at her, raising his gloved fingers from his arm in an embarrassed, flippant dismissal.   

“The drying cloth…” He began, and she cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on.”

-

Vegeta stood at the bottom of her stairs, unwilling to go any further when she had entered her apartment. When she was out of sight he shook his head with a satisfied sigh, slinging water all over the junk that looked like it needed a good scrub anyway. He began to wring the water from his tail when she descended, a grin on her face as she threw the balled up towel at him. He raised a hand and caught the cloth without issue, noticing a cloyingly sweet smell emanating from the fabric, some gross detergent that she washed her laundry with.

He ran the fabric over his face and hair, drying his tail off last, unhappy that the sweet odor was sticking to his skin like some disgusting, heavy perfume. All the while, Bulma stood leaning on the bannister of last step, watching him like he was a goddamn enigma.

“What are you looking at, woman?” He growled, tossing the towel back at her with enough force to catch her off guard, and she fumbled with the cloth, making a face at him as she tossed it carelessly over the railing.

“I’m looking at an idiot who should have worn a coat. Do you not have any normal clothes, or do you only wear armor?”

“Of course, I have civilian clothes…” He trailed, narrowing his eyes at Bulma as she descended the last stair, making her way to a large crate in front of the work space that she had brought him to the first time. “And do you have any idea who you’re calling an idiot?”

“I don’t, actually. We didn’t speak very long the last time…”

“You ran me off!”

“You brought up shit you shouldn’t have! Who, exactly, am I speaking to then?”

Vegeta stepped forward assertively, leaning into the woman with arms crossed and black eyes piercing.

“I’m a Saiyan elite, the prince of all Saiyans. I’m one of the highest-class warriors in Frieza’s army, right under the Ginyu force…”

“Prince?” She interrupted him, her face contorted in confusion.

“Yes. Prince, royal heir to…” He trailed, his heart hammering as he stepped back, his boldness faltering when he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. _He had slipped…_

“What? Heir to what?” Bulma asked curiously, her face brightening as he looked down at his muddied boots. ‘ _Heir to what_ ’ was a good question, because he knew that his birthright had been stripped away from him. Planet Vegeta was nothing but particles floating in space for the rest of eternity. All of his people, his culture, his kingdom- destroyed in one fell swoop.

“Heir to nothing,” Vegeta swallowed, his face hardened, and jaw clenched as he threw one arm up, “Nothing.”

Bulma stared at him wide eyed and silent, finally breaking the awkward silence by punching the top of the crate.

“Well, anyway, I have some work for you to do. Will you carry this for me, pretty please big strong guy?” She smiled, and he gave her an incredulous look. She seriously expected him to work for her like a beast of burden? The Saiyan elite, prince of the goddamn Saiyans doing manual labor for some alien wench?

“You’re kidding?” He hissed, and she shook her head with a wicked grin.

“I’m not, I told you last night I needed you to lift something for me! I thought that’s why you came to visit today, just to help me!” She laughed, and Vegeta ground his teeth, his rage coming to a head as he paced.

“You put an illegal tracer on my fucking scouter, had me make a pitstop at this backwards shitstain of a planet and come to this dump in the sleet- just to lift a fucking box for your weak ass?”

Bulma narrowed her eyes and pointed at him with a look of vitriol few had ever given him in his lifetime.

“What did you want to do, go on a date, Mr. Prince?” Bulma spat, and Vegeta stopped dead in his tracks, his face flushing as he failed to come up with a retort.

“I didn’t think so.” Bulma huffed, and Vegeta narrowed his lips as he decided whether or not this trip to visit the woman of his debauched dreams was all just folly. He could leave, he could walk away and never have to endure the humiliation she inflicted on him ever again- but then, he would go the rest of his life wondering about her, and what she felt like…

Vegeta approached the crate, picking it up and holding it over his head as if it was light as a feather.

“Where is it going?”

“Holy shit, that box weighs at least four hundred pounds…” Bulma mused, staring up at the crate in awe as Vegeta narrowed his eyes irritably.

“Where in the fuck is it _going_?”

“Upstairs, to my apartment.”

-

She could see the look on his face rapidly evolve from wrath to horror when she told the Saiyan that the crate was going to her personal space. The notion of being alone with her in her apartment was utterly terrifying to him, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Most men would be falling over themselves at an invitation to join Bulma in her quarters, but not Vegeta.  

“It’s just up these stairs, let me open the second door.” She called back to him as she ascended the stairs, unlatching the second door and creating a large entryway for the Saiyan. Before she could turn around she felt a tremor, and she looked over in shock as the crate rumbled over the floor and nearly smashed into the couch on the other side of the room. Bulma hoisted herself up, her mouth gaping as the Saiyan stood outside the door, his arms once again crossed and his body not showing a bit of exertion.

“You… you destroyed _my floor_.” She hissed, staring at the deep scuffs in the hardwood. She glared back at him, her face scrunched up with anger as he gave her the slightest of grins.

“Oops.” He shrugged, and she took a deep breath. The bastard did this to get back at her for embarrassing him, and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of her ire.

“Well, whatever. The floor is old anyway. Come in.” She shrugged, giving him a honeyed smile as she closed and latched the second door, and he continued to stare at her with his arms crossed.

“No.”

“Jesus Christ Vegeta, just come in, I won’t sneak up and touch you.” Bulma griped, and Vegeta worked his jaw, looking around as if he were trying to find a quick escape before sighing in defeat.

“Fine.”

-

Her studio didn’t smell anything like the dirty, gas and oil spattered garage below. It smelled sweet, not like the cloth she had brought him earlier, but feminine and soft, with undertones of dirty laundry, bleach and rugs that needed a good wash. He couldn’t say that he disliked the smell though, in fact he found himself committing it to memory. It was all her.

“Make yourself at home, I don’t have a lot of food but I’m sure I can whip something up if you’re hungry.”

Vegeta inadvertently ignored her, looking around her room and noticing that the woman had a garish amount of pink décor, and he made a face at her poor housekeeping. She had crap strewn everywhere, the dirty clothes flowing over the brim of the basket, boxes and items laying around on the floor, the large bed tousled and an empty containers sitting next to her bed.

“Vegeta?” She questioned, and he looked around at her, his name rolling off her tongue in that delicious accent that he savored.

“What?”

“I said make yourself at home… are you hungry?”

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded his head. He could definitely eat.

“Good, me too. I’m going to make something similar to breakfast on earth… I guess as close as I can get here on Akuiper, anyway.”

He nodded again, standing awkwardly in the middle of her studio, not quite sure what to do with himself as she gathered up the ingredients to make some bizarre Earth meal that would likely taste like shit. He didn’t take her for a cook at all.

-

She had finally gotten him to sit at the bar while she cooked, and he answered a few questions as she prepared something as close to pancakes, eggs and bacon as she could possibly make. He told her his age, thirty two- one year older than her, and he had told her how long he had worked for Frieza. She was surprised when he admitted that it had been for twenty five years, meaning he had been a child when he first murdered in the name of the emperor. Bulma had supposed it wasn’t all that odd to enlist child soldiers, but it was still a disheartening revelation.

She had avoided asking him about his supposed royal lineage, as that had seemed as sore of a spot to him as talking about her leg was for her- So she kept the conversation light, and all the while he had eaten the food she had made with gusto, not leaving a single crumb behind.

“You know, you’re the first person that’s ever eaten everything I’ve ever made.” She laughed, squishing a piece of uneaten pseudo pancake under her fork, and he shrugged.

“It wasn’t great, but I’ve had worse.” He grumbled, and she raised an eyebrow at him as he gave her the slightest grin.

“How many women have cooked for you before, huh?”

He glared at her, sitting back in the chair with his arms crossed.

“A few.” He shrugged.

“I’m not talking about women handing out food in the rations line.” She pressed, pointing the cakey fork at him as he stared at her with a blank face.

“Fine, you got me. None.” He replied disinterestedly before his scouter beeped, and he pulled the lens out in front of his eye as Bulma grabbed his and her empty plates, putting them in the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes. She listened to him answer the call in his native tongue, and she couldn’t help but feel a shiver run up her spine as he spoke in the intricate, rolling Saiyan language. All that she could think of was of him whispering foreign words in her ear as he held himself over top of her sweating body…

Bulma could hear the irritation in his voice as he dropped the call and he flipped the lens back, shaking his head in irritation.

“Whats up?” Bulma asked, and Vegeta tapped his fingers on the table in irritation.

“I told the idiot to send me coordinates.” He growled as Bulma ran water in the sink. She turned around to the Saiyan and shrugged.

“And?”

“He just wanted to talk about some stupid bar. Like I give a shit about bars…”

“Well I’m glad you were at the bar when I was, I would have been toast if it wasn’t for you.” Bulma smiled, and Vegeta shook his head.

“I have no idea why I was I was there.” He reiterated, watching her carefully as she placed the last of the dirty dishes into the full sink.

“Maybe it was fate.” She murmured, wiping her wet hands off on a towel and turning to him with a grin.

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, hear me out. I almost didn’t go that night, I had a bad feeling about the clients, your scouter broke because of them, and you brought it to me...”

He glared at her, his face contorting with fear as he balled his gloved fists up.

“Clients? Woman you’re not a…”

“No I’m not a whore. God, no, I’m a wrencher.” Bulma sighed, throwing her hand up dismissively. Vegeta stared at her deadpan, before breaking out in a genuine laugh that surprised her. It was a nice laugh, not the evil cackling she had expected to come out of him.

“ _You_ …You’re a wrencher?”

“A damn good one too. You shouldn’t be surprised, I did put an untraceable tracer on your scouter.” She winked, and he ran his hand through his thick shock of hair.

“You know if you get caught for that shit you’re in jail for the rest of your life, no bailouts.”

“I know, but when I actually get work it pays _so_ well.”

“It’s stupid, woman.”

“It’s money, and I’m desperate. My co worker has been out with the plague for weeks…” She trailed as Vegeta threw his hands up incredulously.

“If I get the fucking plague…” The Saiyan spat, making a face as Bulma leaned on the bar, revealing cleavage that entranced him as she responded.

“I can’t get it, I’m sure you can’t get it. We’re too much alike.” She affirmed, watching him watch her cleavage with a sly satisfaction. _She may seduce the chaste one, yet._

“You better be right…” He trailed, finally looking back up at her face as she grinned wickedly, and he blushed slightly as he averted his eyes from her gaze. Bulma leaned her head on her fist, puzzling over the bizarre behavior of the alien before her.

“I’ve never met a man as shy as you, Vegeta.” Bulma said breathily, watching the Saiyan cross his arms tighter, his lip giving the slightest curl as she spoke. He didn’t respond with words, but his tail flicked in a way that reminded her of a pissed off cat, and she smiled as he growled, his narrowed eyes darting back to hers in a flash of onyx.

“What are you looking at?” He hissed, staring at her warily as she shrugged. She knew that flirting with him was a bad idea, and that he could very likely walk right out on her, never to be seen again. _But_ , she saw the way that he had been looking at her all night and felt like he wasn’t a lost cause just yet. The Saiyan wouldn’t have gone out of his way to visit the cesspool of Akuiper if he hadn’t wanted to pursue her.

"I'm looking at you, _Eradicator_. You’re very handsome, you know?”

-

Vegeta’s mouth was dry, but he tried to swallow desperately as the woman’s ocean eyes bore into his with a lust that he found disturbingly irresistible. His biological urges ran their rebellious tendrils from his balls to his brain, and he ground his teeth as his encumbered mind fumbled with logical words in which to respond with. _This wasn’t how he wanted this to go._

“I…I don’t…” He managed only to stutter, and she smiled softly.

“I’m putting you on the spot, aren’t I?” She stood, removing her cleavage from his vision and he knitted his eyebrows at her pitying look. His mind raced as he fought with himself, fight or flight, and although he wanted to deny her, deny himself, he knew his defenses were faltering. He needed alcohol, his liquid courage, and he needed it fast.

“Do you have whiskey?” He managed, and she gave him a puzzled look before strutting to the cabinet, bending down dramatically to show off her ass as he inhaled. He wanted to be pressing against that body, leaning over her and running his hands under her tank top… She was so close now, not just a mere thought to accompany his depraved jack-off session, or an unachievable fantasy that once grabbed for, would fade away into the recesses of his mind. He could touch her now, feel her, if he was so inclined.   

“I don’t have whiskey, but I’ve got rum.” She said, humming as she pulled out a bottle of amber liquid and two shot glasses. She stood up, swinging her braid behind her shoulder as she walked back to the bar, swaying her hips with a naughty grin. She was trying to seduce him, and she was doing a damn good job.

“Isn’t it a little early for booze though?” She teased, setting the glasses out on the bar and sliding one to him. He caught it in an imperceptible movement when it nearly slid off the table, and she slapped the bar with a surprised gasp.

“Damn, you're fast!” She mused, unscrewing the cap from the rum and pouring his shot first, giving him double before pouring her own to the rim of the small, clear glass. Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her generous portion but made no mention of it as she sat down opposite of him. He raised the glass, ready to take the shot before she held her hand up.

“Let’s play a game.”

“A game?”

“A drinking game.”

“I don’t play stupid games…” He growled irritably, downing the shot with one go, feeling the heat of the spicy rum radiate through his chest. What in the hell did she think playing a ridiculous game would accomplish?…

Bulma rolled her eyes with a sigh, and he sat the glass back down hard, prompting her to refill it immediately.

“Look here buddy, you’re going to play this game with me, got it?” She asserted, tracing the rim of her shot glass with one mottled finger as she stared him in the eyes, challenging him, and he exhaled with the ghost of a grin. She was spirited, and he couldn’t help but find himself enamored with her dominance.

“Fine. What sort of _game_ do you have in mind?”

“ _Never have I ever_.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“I ask you a question, ANY QUESTION, and if the answer is yes- you take a shot. Hell, if my answer is yes, I will too.”

“Okay…”

“Okay, simple right? Then after my turn, you ask me a question. Got it?”

“Whatever.”

“Okay. First question, have you ever been on a date?”

“Woman…” He trailed, making a perturbed face as she gyrated her hand impatiently.

“Have you? I have.” She smiled impishly, downing her oversized shot in one go.

“No.” Vegeta answered, raising his eyebrow and swallowing dryly once again. He was quickly deciding he wasn’t a fan of this game, and wanted nothing more than to down at least five more shots.

“Your turn.”

Vegeta worked his jaw, turning the shot glass around as he wracked his brain for some sort of stupid question that wouldn’t offend her like the last damn time…

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Because I want to get to know you! But its yes or no questions only, ask again.”

“ _Tch_ woman. Have you- is your home planet still, ah, does it exist?”

Bulma stared at him with a blank face, downing her shot as Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her. _So, her planet still existed…_

“Was your planet destroyed?” She blurted, surprising him as he turned his glass up and swallowed the amber liquid. He liked the way it felt as it settled irritably in his stomach, and he grabbed the bottle, pouring his next glass full.

“Are you happy here?” He asked, side eyeing her as she huffed without drinking, and he smirked slightly, fiddling with the shot glass as he waited for her next question.

 “Have you kissed more than five women?” She grinned, playing with the end of her braid as he knitted his eyebrows together. What in the actual hell was she talking about?

“I don’t know… what that means.” He mumbled, and her eyes widened in surprise. She ran her palm over her face before taking her shot, and she held her hand up authoritatively.

“Let it be known that I haven’t kissed more than five women, I just needed the drink. _But_ , let me get this straight, you don’t know what _kissing_ is? Do you have another word for it?” She asked skeptically, refilling her shot once again before he downed his own. He needed it as well.

“I don’t know the word, I’ve never…”

“When you put your mouth on another person’s mouth, and the tongue... it’s a sexual thing. Surely you have, right?”

Vegeta stared at her as is she were completely insane. What she spoke of was unsanitary, a good way to spread disease.

“That sounds fucking disgusting.” He hissed, setting his glass on the bar a little too hard before he filled it up once again, and he relished the feeling of drunkenness that was beginning to manifest in his head, freeing his inhibitions and allowing him to act more natural around the woman before him.

Bulma stared at him blankly, chewing on her lip as he ground his teeth, and she stood up without a word, carrying her full glass and walking over to his side of the table. He stared up at her with a disconcerted face, wrapping his tail instinctively around his waist as she cocked her head.

“Woman, what are you doing?”

“You’re a primate, obviously. You’re like me, and you’ve never kissed a woman before?” She asked him once again, turning her shot up and haphazardly tossing the glass to the bar top. Vegeta watched it roll, and then looked back at her with a worried, irritable scowl.

“No.” He answered, his heart hammering as Bulma leaned into him, narrowing her eyes with a slightly drunken sway. He narrowed his lips as she stared at him, pressing into his personal space, and he caught a whiff of her fragrance. It was an overwhelming scent of feminine allure and pheromones that made him nearly lean into her, a rare, instinctive need that overpowered his ingrained aversion to physical intimacy.

“Can I show you? I think you’ll like it.” She smiled sweetly, and he bit the inside of his lip nervously, excitedly, wondering what it would be like to press his lips against hers. The alcohol was clearly working its charms on him, and so was she…

His mind raced as he stared at her, his pupils dilated, his body a bundle of exited energy, and he knew that the reason that he came back to Akuiper was to bring the fantasies he had of her to life, to touch her, taste her, feel her... _He had made up his mind._

“Show me.”


	4. Odyssey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma recall their time together. Vegeta is sent away on missions further and further from Opalian, and Bulma wonders if she'll ever see him again.

Vegeta laid nude and freshly showered on his single bed, his arms behind his head, his body sore from the battle that lasted nearly a goddamned week. It was a densely populated and incredibly advanced world, with a huge army and powerful weapons that gave the ten Eradicators one hell of a fight. Although planets with intelligent, advanced populations often bowed to Frieza’s reign, others were stubborn- thought they could fight, thought they could _actually fucking win_.

The prince sighed, staring at the dark ceiling in near silence, the only audible noise was the low hum from the powerful engines far below the deck, and muffled alien chatter from the occupied dorm to his right. He wasn’t keen on having seven alien soldiers on the ship, _his ship_ \- which was usually only occupied by three to five, but ultimately it wasn’t his choice to make. He was a dog of the military, and bowed to his superior’s whims, or else- and _else_ wasn’t a pleasant thought. Thankfully they would be dumping the seven non-Saiyans off at the next port… in nine damn days.

Vegeta’s mind raced despite his attempt to sleep, and he couldn’t help but think of the woman, was she still working in that shithole garage? Had she thought of him, had she found another suitor? He was so fucking far from her now, at least eight months away. It had been nearly that long since he had last seen her, when his journey took him to the end of the galaxy, and even further still, into the next. He could still remember their brief time together in surprising clarity, the thrilling experience she had shown him, one they had shared.

He remembered tipping up his glass…

******

_Vegeta tipped up his glass_ , swallowing one last, desperate shot before the woman closed in on him.  He watched her as if she moved in slow motion, his mouth dry and his mind woozy and distant, seemingly far away from his body as he allowed her into his most sacred personal space. He was excited, absolutely enthralled as well as utterly horrified by what was in store as Bulma knelt down to him.

The woman moved in close, so close that their noses were almost touching, and he readily breathed in her scent as he kept his eyes locked on hers. She smelled entrancing, simply overwhelming, something he had not quite experienced before, and he assumed it was because she was so much like a Saiyan herself; perhaps they were even biologically compatible…

Her scent, or more likely her pheromones- cried out to him in a primal way, pleading with him to couple with her, just _begging_ him to mate with her. It was a frightening and exciting urge, and he felt his groin stir quickly to life as she placed her indigo fingers on either side of his neck, making his skin tingle at her cold, gentle touch. He hadn’t been touched by hands so soft in countless years.

“Follow my lead.” She whispered to him, smiling slightly just before closing her eyes and settling her lips directly on his. Vegeta hadn’t had time to brace himself, and he caught his breath when she placed her softly puckered lips on his, her delicate skin touching his own and causing his heart to hammer out of his chest. This was like nothing the prince had ever experienced, it was as if pure bolts of energy coursed down his core and back up again, it was primitive and illogical, a damn good way to spread disease- but somehow it felt _right_.

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes as she continued to nuzzle her lips over his, and he had almost become comfortable enough to reciprocate before she ran her tongue over his lower lip, parting his mouth slightly and making him feel as if he would jump right out of his seat in shock. She had mentioned tongues, yes- but this? This was _bizarre_.

He began to pull away from her, startled by the foreign and alarming sensation, but he was also astonished to find that it felt exciting, the energy from before tripled, and hell- it felt damn good.

So, he let her continue.

Bulma flicked her tongue up under his lip, nipping it slightly before pulling away for just a moment, opening her eyes and looking into his.

“Remember, follow my lead. Close your eyes.” She reiterated, and Vegeta silently obeyed, swallowing his nervous excitement as she separated his lips once again, and his stomach fluttered when he parted them for her, allowing her to kiss him deeper, allowing himself to run his tongue over hers for the first time…

_Damn._

The act should have been disgusting. It should have revolted him, sent him running out of her shithole garage at full speed, but instead the bizarre kiss had him achingly hard. Painfully hard. He could never remember ever wanting a woman like he wanted Bulma in that moment. She was nothing but trouble, and she was everything he had dreamed of…

-

Bulma had taken her chances when she sat on his lap, taken her chances when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hell, she had taken her chances with the whole damn situation- and she was happy to find that the shy soldier didn’t balk. In fact, she could feel his erection quite well, and she was more than happy with the size of it as it pressed against her ass.

His kissing was conservative at first, it was a fumbling, stiff thing before he began to relax and catch on, and soon he was following her moves with startling accuracy, quickly becoming fluid with her. His eagerness spurned her on to take yet another chance, and she flipped her natural leg over the other side of the chair until she was straddling him. Instead of pushing away from her, he pushed into her, and she couldn’t help but moan into their kiss as his cock rubbed against her most sensitive region.

The entire act was exhilarating, and she hadn’t felt such a lively whirlwind of pleasure in so many years- too many damn years. Bulma felt something was exceptional about the man she had begun to connect with, their chemistry together was mind blowing, and the way her body felt with his- it was pure pleasure. The jittery, electric feeling was all consuming, and it was intense.

Bulma found her heart rabbiting when he placed his gloved hands on either side of her waist. He was relaxing even more, his body becoming attuned with hers, and she moaned slightly as he drew his hands over her hips, pressing his gloved fingers into her flesh and causing her breath to hitch as his thumbs neared her mound, something she hadn’t at all expected. He had just seemed too shy before… too inexperienced.

Bulma hadn’t been touched this way in so long, and she felt a shaky, giddy excitement, which caused her to stifle a playful giggle against his lips. Vegeta immediately pulled back from her, meeting her eyes as she sniggered, and she covered her mouth with one hand, unable to control her intense emotions.

-

“What?” Vegeta snapped, feeling incredibly self-conscious as the woman shook her head, obviously trying to hold back a laugh. He jerked his hands from her body as if he had been burnt and he glared at her accusingly as her cheeks took the same rosy hue as his own. He didn’t like the laugh, and really didn’t care for the way she looked at him. What the hell was so fucking funny, anyway?

“Nothing, I’m sorry, it’s just been so long since… I’ve done any of this.” She smiled softly then, her fit of odd laughter seeming to pass at her admittance, and before he could respond, she ran her fingers through his thick shock of hair, causing him to exhale from the soothing gesture. He narrowed his eyes at her as she lightly traced her hands from his hair to his shoulders, and he couldn’t help but continuously chill at her touch.

 “I’m sorry, you can go back to what you were doing. I just had a moment, it won’t happen again.” She winked, pressing herself against him, grinding on his wilting cock and causing it to liven once again. He was irritated by the unnecessary, embarrassing interruption, but he was also incredibly horny, relatively drunk, and entirely ready to resume the kissing. It was good, so primal and familiar, but why?

He was taken from his home planet when he was seven, so he would have remembered if Saiyans had kissed, unless it was something they only did in the bed chamber, in which he wouldn’t have known; that was possible, although Nappa and Raditz had never mentioned such an act…

He quickly lost his train of thought when the woman wrapped her arms around his neck once again, but instead of meeting his lips she began kissing his neck with nipping, sucking motions which caused the hair on his tail and the back of his neck stand on edge from the intensity. His heart galloped as he tentatively ran his hands back down her curves, resting them once again on her hips before…

******

 Vegeta startled when his scouter beeped, and he twisted around, scooting himself to the dresser and grabbing the tech, throwing it on and… _fuck_.

Just a fucking group alert, sent out to every military scouter in the goddamned quadrant. What did he fucking expect? Her? He hadn’t spoken to her in so long, since she had been out of range, too far for her nonmilitary scouter to register. It had been months since he had heard her voice- three, four months? He wasn’t sure anymore. He wondered if she had even thought about him recently, the way he thought about her every night before sleep overtook his sore, tired body. 

And lately, sleep came later and later, and when it came, it was fitful.

-

Bulma knew from the moment she placed her lips on his that the fluttery, electric jolt that she felt was special, she knew from the moment he first got a good look at her and stared at her in pure awe- that something in the endless, incomprehensible universe had brought them together for reasons unknown, and it just as quickly sent them in different paths.

Regardless, she had talked to him every week or two, calling him with secure encryption just to chat about her day, ask him about his (to which she didn’t get much more than ‘fine’), and to ramble about nothing in particular, or anything of any importance- and while he didn’t speak much, she knew that he was just as lonely as she was. He was just as happy to receive her calls as she was to make them, and so it lasted until he was so far out of her range that she couldn’t make contact with him anymore.

It had been four months.

Life had gone on, of course. Cort had long since gotten over his illness, they didn’t lose the shop and work was steadily at an uptick- but their finances were still far behind. Bulma had taken a few hacking jobs, but nothing of any great importance or source of vital income. She needed a big racing job, something she could throw a wrench into and make three or four thousand credits- just a few times would get the garage owners back on their feet. But she still hadn’t gotten a single lead.

And damn, she was lonely. She had Cort, but his companionship only lasted the duration of their work days, and the nights were spent alone, tinkering on pet projects in her apartment. Occasionally she would have lunch with a friend, and rarely, she would go out to clubs with her female acquaintances. She used to love to go out dancing, flirting with the various alien men and getting free drinks from them- but since she had met the Saiyan soldier, she didn’t feel up to any of her old ways.

She felt that her loss of interest in revelry and dancing was absolutely ridiculous, since she knew so little of the Saiyan that she had just met, but she couldn’t help but wonder where the mysterious prince was, how many planets he had conquered, if he was even still alive- and if so, was he thinking of her? Would she even see him again? Who knew.

And so, it was down the hatch.

-

Bulma sat at a round, high top table as her friends mingled with other patrons of the _Silver Nova,_ one of the nicer nightclubs in downtown Akuiper. She looked out of place sitting alone under the blue and green lights, the bass was thumping so hard that it reverberated through her chest, and the silver strobes illuminated her curled hair brilliantly as she toyed with her handheld. She took a long drink of the strong, bright pink concoction with some sort of pierced alien fruit hanging off the side of the glass, and sighed.

She knew she needed to get it together, knew at this point it was safe to move on-but move on from what though? Did she and the Saiyan have anything that would even constitute as a relationship? She wasn’t sure, but it felt like it, even if they didn’t sleep together.

She smiled, thinking of their one day together, how he had turned into a different man with a bit of liquor running through his veins, and how he had pleasured her shockingly well with his killer’s hands…

******

_“You should turn around...”_

She was surprised once again when he breathed in her ear in an unsure whisper, and she didn’t have to guess what he wanted from the way his hands had just wandered over her hips. Clearly the man had a bit more experience than she had imagined, and she obeyed without question, standing, pulling her pink sweater off and throwing it behind her with abandon. He watched her with hooded eyes, his right thumb kneading nervously over his fist as she sat down backwards on his lap. 

Vegeta pulled one glove off, throwing it to the table as she excitedly awaited his touch, her body aching for what would come next, for what she hadn’t experienced in years. Her breath hitched as he ran his bare fingers under the hem of her pants, his hand seeming almost hesitant to touch her bare flesh before he finally laid his palm flush with her skin, just above her manicured curls.

Bulma bit her lip, moaning breathily as the Saiyan let his hand slip lower, and a shaky wave of adrenaline coursed through her body, further addling her brain as two fingers grazed her sensitive bud. Without even thinking, she arched her hips, allowing Vegeta better access as she exhaled, whimpering softly as his rough fingers traced her clit, pressing slightly and causing her to dig her fingernails into the muscles of his upper leg.

If she hurt him, he didn’t show it, and she panted as he explored further, gently caressing her folds while he placed his lips just above her shoulder, kissing and nipping her flesh with surprising delicacy.

-

She was softer than he could have imagined, her flesh like fine silk under his thick skinned, calloused fingers. He was unsure of himself, despite the liquor, but she was so animated- so fucking alive, and she was enjoying _his_ touch. The scent of her arousal told him that she was ready just for _him,_ that _he_ had done this to her.

It was an intense realization, that the gorgeous woman on his lap was pleasured by him, that she wanted him too. It instantly conjured up the urge to _bite_ her, sink his teeth into her flesh to… _mark her, claim her_? He had heard of the instinct from his comrades, but he had never experienced it himself, and he found it startling…bizarre. It was an itch, an irritating tug from the primitive part of his brain to take his mate despite the fact that he barely knew the woman, and he had to fight the impulse, nip at her instead.

Bulma didn’t mind his teeth, in fact she seemed to enjoy his canines dragging across her fragile ivory skin, and by the way she was reacting she _really_ liked his fingers. It was a trick he had been taught in the distant past, a way to pleasure a woman, _foreplay_.

He had been a half drunk teenager, and he had blushed the entire lesson as a green skinned woman, a friend of Nappa- taught him, guiding him like a patient teacher and showing him what to do with her body. She was older than him, an experienced pleasure instructor, and she had educated him before she jerked him off, promptly leaving him with his mind spinning in the dark bedroom of an inn, countless billions of miles away from where he was now.

Despite having never repeated the act since that bizarre night, he never forgot the lesson. And now, he was eager to show her what he did know…

“Oh _god,_ I need more Vegeta...” She whimpered, arching back into him as she was begging for his touch, and he found himself aching for her, wanting to fill her up, wanting to couple and mate and... _gods damn_. He was pleasantly surprised when his fingers found her threshold wet and wanting, but it was nearly too much for him. He wanted to rip her pants off and take her right in the chair, listen to her whimper and moan and scream his name in the odd, pleasant accent as he lost himself in her…it was a thought that made his blood hot and his cock throb, and all he knew in the haze of his lust is that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.

Vegeta arched two fingers into her, her honey spilling out and soaking his hand as he stroked her walls, and he growled into her neck as her hips bucked into his hand. She gripped his legs hard, digging her nails into the fabric of his uniform, and it spurred him on to quicken his pace as she threw her head back with a loud moan of pure ecstasy.

-

Bulma couldn’t help it, it had been so long since she had been touched that she came hard onto his fingers, her body shivering in rapture as the Saiyan bit her gently, barely piercing her skin as she came down from the all-consuming pleasure. She panted as her vision came to, and she looked back at Vegeta with a flushed smile, biting her lip slightly as he removed his fingers from her, wiping them off on a rag that laid on the table.

-

“I didn’t last long. you’re good, _Eradicator_.” She panted, and before he could reply she reached back and took his mouth in hers to kiss him deeply, and Vegeta gladly reciprocated. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, of the way her tongue felt on his, of her kiss. He nearly groaned when she broke away from him, standing from his lap. She looked down at him with a coquettish grin on her kiss reddened lips, her cheeks a rosy hue that made her even more gorgeous, her turquoise hair slightly disheveled in its braid, and he wanted more… wanted her. _But…_

 “Let’s move to the bed, what do you say?” She smiled, grabbing the bottom of her tank top and pulling it off, tossing it to the heap of dirty clothes in the corner. She stood in front of him in only a black bra and tight black pants, and he swallowed deeply, wanting another shot as she grabbed at his hands. He wasn’t sure anymore, wasn’t sure about coupling because…

“Don’t be shy now!” She giggled, and he nodded, standing for her. He should be ready to thrust into her right then, should have been begging her to take his cock, _should have_ … but somehow he wasn’t.

He had pleased her, that was obvious since she hadn’t lasted long from his fingers, but nonetheless he worried. He was worried he couldn’t please her again, that he wasn’t up to sex, he had never been dominant in coupling and… what if that was what she liked? He felt himself going soft at the prospect, but he reluctantly followed her anyway.  

She led him to her disheveled bed, and grinned as she laid back on it with her legs open, inviting him to mount her… _fuck_. He inhaled deeply, the first beads of sweat forming at his temples as he took his other glove off, dropping it to the floor before approaching her. He put his hands on her upper legs, and she reached up for him, inviting him down into her warmth, into her world of soft skin, of electrifying kisses and wet, wanton sex… and he stalled. _He fucking stalled_.

His heart pounded audibly, and he knew she could hear it. It was like a drum, and his cock had gone soft, his body was betraying him, giving away the fact that he had lost his confidence. He had never been dominant when it came to sex… his past encounters with women had been awkward, drunken affairs in cheap hotel rooms in different corners of the universe. The three that had resulted in coupling were quick and fumbling business, with the Saiyan underneath the alien women as they had their way with him; using him like a damn toy and then leaving in silence after they reached their climax.

Although he had came harder than he ever could on his own, the affairs had always left a bad taste in his mouth. They were not respectful, not mutual, not genuine. They were drunken, horny females that he allowed into his room with the sole intention of using him for their own satisfaction, and he had known it and hadn't cared. Not once had he ever wanted to meet with them again, not once had he felt a connection in any way, and never had he wanted to take control- to flip them over pound them into whatever bed they found themselves in, with abandon.

Not until Bulma.

And now his body betrayed him, and he feared he wasn’t good enough for her…

-

Bulma had noticed that Vegeta was uncertain, that he was stalling when he stood above her, his eyes, once dark with lust were now wide in worry. She hadn’t had time to say anything to him when the Saiyan’s scouter had went off, beeping erratically while it was still on his ear.

He had exhaled, as if in relief when he had backed away from her, pulling the lens out and accepting the call, and he paced as the information that she couldn’t hear was relayed to him. It must have been a pretty damn important call for him to turn away from her though- she had felt his throbbing cock pressing hard against her the entire foreplay session, without any release of his own...

“Accepted. My company will assemble and depart immediately.” He finally spoke, breaking her train of thought as she sat up on her knees, watching him hesitate, grabbing the closest glove without looking at her.

“What’s going on?” Bulma had asked him, watching as he turned toward the kitchen for his other glove.

“Emergency distress beacon on a nearby planet, some weak fools got in over their damn heads dealing with an uprising on an empire-controlled planet. I’ve…got to go.” Vegeta stated with hesitation, abruptly making his way to the door and finally looking over his shoulder at Bulma before turning the knob.

Bulma stood, walking over to him and kissing his cheek lightly before he opened the door, letting the cold air in to her warm, cozy apartment.

“Will I see you again?” She called to him as he made his way down the stairs. He stopped and looked up at her, the red lens of his scouter obscuring his right eye.

“I don’t know.” The Saiyan answered flatly, his breath coming out in vapor from the cold, and once again he turned away from Bulma. 

******

She hadn’t seen him since.

Bulma finished off the last of the bright pink martini as she watched her three alien friends dancing on the crowded floor with various alien men, and everyone around her was having a great time while she conjured up memories of the most tentative sexual encounter she had ever had. She knew it was silly, holding onto that memory, letting it keep her from dancing with others and having a good time. It wasn’t like she would be cheating, hell, she barely knew the Saiyan- and she would likely never even see him again.

_But_.

“Fuck it.” Bulma mumbled inaudibly to herself as stood from her seat and strutted up to the bar, ordering the same pink martini. She could dance with whoever the fuck she wanted to, she could even dance by herself, no shame in that. She didn’t need to be pining over a man anyhow, she didn’t need anybody but Bulma fucking Briefs, and she was going to have fun.

The tentacled, cephalopod-like bartended grabbed a concoction of liquors in his various arms and mixed up Bulma’s drink, and she watched in fascination as his nimble feelers measured everything out perfectly, shaking up the combined liquids in the tumbler until they poured out glowing pink into the glass. He topped the martini off with the same piece of skewered fruit as before, and Bulma took the drink out on the dancefloor.

The music was thumping as she took a long swig of her drink, and her friends cheered her on as she shook her ass, her silver and blue sequined dress shimmering brilliantly under the flashing lights.

“Girl I thought I would never see you out here again!” Del’fah, the more human-like of the three friends, shouted over the thumping bass, leaving her dancing partner high-and-dry and grabbing Bulma’s free hand drunkenly. Bulma rolled her eyes playfully, taking another long swig of the martini until it made her head swim pleasantly.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I'm ready to have some fun tonight!” Bulma shouted back, putting the nearly empty glass on a vacant table nearest to her. She danced beside of Del’fah, laughing with the other woman as they gyrated on the floor, and it wasn’t long before Bulma was approached by a tall man. His face was handsome and human enough, albeit pale purple, but he sported large horns jutting out of either side of his skull as well as inverted, digitigrade legs.

“You want to dance?” The man asked, and Bulma gave him a half smile, her heart racing as she came up with something to say. Did she want to dance with him? She couldn’t really think of a good reason not to, so she finally nodded her head, dancing in front of him, trying to feel the music and let herself go. She could almost forget with the alcohol and the bass thumping, could almost leave behind the memory- when he grabbed her waist. _Goddamn it,_ it felt wrong and unpleasant, it felt like cheating.

Bulma pulled back from the alien, giving him an awkward smile before shrugging off, and he made a confused face at her as she stepped away from him. She shook her woozy, drunken head and took a seat once again, trying to figure out exactly what her problem was. Why…for the love of the gods, could she not get that Saiyan off her mind? She would likely never even see him again, and he was kind of a weirdo anyway. But, she couldn’t help it. She was smitten with a man that seemed more like a ghost now.

Bulma finally called an aircab to take her home, and she drug herself up to her apartment, stripping off most of her clothing and falling drunkenly onto her unmade bed. She would regret this night in the morning, but as for now it was sleep. Mind numbing, blackout sleep.

-

Vegeta crawled back onto his ship bruised, beaten and exhausted. They were pushing the outer limits of the territory and had come across populations that were quite a bit more powerful than originally expected. Raditz had almost died, and lay in stasis below, healing in the regeneration tank, and Nappa had major wounds which needed a good dip in the tank as well; Vegeta had fared the best out of the five. Two alien soldiers had died in the purge, and for that, Vegeta wasn’t sorry. He hated sharing his damn ship with his two idiot comrades, and it was much worse with aliens. _Good riddance._

After securing his scouter in his dorm, Vegeta went to the wash room, soaking for what seemed hours in the scalding hot tub to relax his muscles, then showering off of the rest of the blood and grime until he was satisfied. The Saiyan put on his towel, and trudged warily back to the dorms, cursing the AI when it greeted him, telling it to turn the lights off as usual- when he noticed his scouter flashing red. He had a message.

He grabbed the tech off the dresser, placing it on his ear and listening with his brows knitted as the message played out.

THIS IS A MESSAGE TO ALL ACTIVE ERADICATION SOLDIERS IN THE EIGHTEENTH QUADRANT, SEVENTEETH QUADRANT, SIXTEETH QUADRANT…

Vegeta shook his head as the computerized voice named every single active quadrant.

ALL EXPLORATION AND ATTAINMENT OF PLANETS IS TO BE PUT ON HALT UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. PAY WILL BE DOCKED TO FIFTEEN PERCENT OF YOUR CURRENT EARNINGS AND WILL NOW BE TRANSFERRED TO YOUR CREDIT CHIP ONCE MONTHLY. STASIS IS RECOMMENDED.

I REPEAT, ALL ACTIVE ERADICATION SOLDIERS IN THE EIGHTEETH…

Vegeta pulled the scouter off and placed it on the dresser top once again before sitting down on the bedside, holding his exhausted head in his hands. The last time they had been pulled out of work it had been nearly a three year stint of unemployment, like most of the other soldiers, Vegeta had docked at the closest empire port and plugged into stasis until work resumed. But this time, he immediately thought of her.

She was nearly a year away at this point, and going back to her would be a long shot- for all he knew she could have moved, be dead or have taken a mate. She may not be interested in him at all anymore, but what the fuck else was he going to do? Sleep for a few years?

It wasn’t even a question. He was going back to Akuiper.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading friends! And I'm so SORRY this chapter took forever to write! I had the hardest time writing this one, and getting it put together coherently- so it just ended up taking a lot of time.  
> No beta for this chapter.


	5. A Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two lonely souls reflect on the past, and are reunited once again.

Bulma wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had last spoken to the Saiyan. Well, at least the last time they had a mostly one-sided conversation where she would talk to him, and he would occasionally grunt or speak something vaguely resembling words. But regardless of his stoic silence, Vegeta would actually listen to what she had to say. He would respond appropriately when asked direct questions, and he always seemed to hesitate when she ended the call, like he didn’t want her to go.

Bulma felt like Vegeta needed to hear her just as much as she needed to talk to him, and she knew they were both so, incredibly lonely. He had been to countless galaxies, encountered (and probably murdered) innumerable species, any of whom he could have settled with but didn’t; and she had no shortage of alien suitors that would love to take her out to dinner, to pamper and know Bulma Briefs- and yet, she hadn’t wanted any of their affections.

But somehow, she and the Saiyan had been magnetized to one another from the first time they had locked eyes together in that cold, wet alley outside the _Groggy Gorchik_. And although their time together was brief and mostly grown through illegal conversations from her scouter hack, the two had found genuine comfort in one another’s company. A one in a centillion pairing, she thought.

Regardless of the fact that deep down, she knew that she would never see him again, Bulma held out a thin glimmer of hope. She had no interest in dancing with other alien men, of having dinner with them or letting them into her life. No, that wouldn’t do at all, when the man she had only encountered on three, short occasions was still out there, somewhere in the endless, dark expanse of space.

-

Vegeta gagged.

Coming out of cryo was a bitch, and the longer the sleep, the worse the hangover. He opened his dry eyes to blurry, glaring artificial light beaming down in his face, and his busting head pleaded with him to just go back to sleep. Vegeta lifted his arm up weakly and smacked the lever above his head, opening the hatch to his stasis pod which filled the chamber with a blast of cold air, causing him to gasp and shake pitifully. His empty stomach roiled as he sat up with the debilitating tremors, and he leaned over the edge of the pod and dry heaved for what felt like an eternity.

It was misery, and there was little to be done to ease the passage, other than drink copious amounts of electrolyte infused water and hope for the best. Why the fuck hadn’t they made some sort of transition aide for this? With all the marvels in the universe, people still couldn’t even come out of goddamned cryo without wishing they were dead.

He finally pulled himself together and stepped out of the pod, wobbly legged, barefoot and fully lacking in grace. He didn’t give a shit. Raditz and Nappa could kiss his ass, if they were even out before him. He would kill them, if they so much as tried to hide a grin on their ugly faces…

“Goddamn, Vegeta. Cryo keeps getting harder every time, I’m getting too fucking old for this. Raditz hasn’t even come out yet.” Nappa mumbled miserably from the table at the front of the room, and he clanged a glass on the countertop, motioning for his prince to join him in recovery.

“Fuck him.” Vegeta mumbled with a dry, wretched feeling mouth as he trudged to the table, and he sat on the cold steel seat with a wince. The metallic chill cut right through the thin white shorts they had each donned before their sleep, freezing his ass and making the entire situation that much worse. His pounding head pondered over the exact reason why they had to strip down for cryo, and it wasn’t coming up with any good explanations. It didn’t matter anyway, all that mattered was water. And Bulma, of course.

Nappa poured his prince a tall glass from the pitcher he had managed from the storage cabinet, and Vegeta gulped down the overly sweet liquid with abandon.

“Hey now, slow down, you’re gonna puke.”

“I’m going to puke anyway Nappa, fuck off.” Vegeta managed as Nappa filled the prince’s glass once again, and Vegeta took shorter drinks on the second go. The big man wasn’t wrong, but he’d be damned to admit it.

“You never told us why we came back to Akuiper. Why the fuck would you cross nearly two galaxies and endure cryo to get back to this shithole city?” Nappa grumbled, taking his own swig of the electrolyte supplement and catching his prince by surprise. Vegeta glared at the bald Saiyan, his eyes narrowed dangerously before he averted the man’s gaze. Nappa wasn’t backing down, and Vegeta didn’t have to answer him of course- but they _had_ followed their prince without complaint. He knew he would have to come up with something, eventually.

“It doesn’t matter.” Vegeta sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before fanning his hand out over his throbbing forehead. Nappa didn’t answer, only nodded as he sat back against the white wall with his eyes closed. The prince ground his teeth as he watched the man, wanting (and yet detesting the thought) of confiding in him, something he didn’t want Raditz to know. Raditz was an asshole.

“It’s a woman.” He grumbled miserably, his cheeks flushing bright pink as Nappa opened his eyes, giving his prince a deadpan stare.

“I figured as much.” He finally answered, leaning his head back once again, and Vegeta glared. He had known… He fucking knew it?

“You knew it, why? How?”

“You’re easy to read Vegeta. You hate this goddamn city, and yet you wanted to come back here on multiple occasions… you don’t gamble, you don’t party or ever have a good time, so the only logical explanation was you were getting some ass.”

“I didn’t…I don’t, I wasn’t _getting ass_ , Nappa.” Vegeta growled awkwardly, finishing off his water and setting the glass on the table for his subordinate to fill again. How dare he…how fucking _dare_ Nappa even say such shit to him.

“Oh, so you took her out on a romantic date? Bought her some flowers?” Nappa chuckled despite his own misery, and Vegeta fumed. _How dare he._

“Nappa, the cryo must have certainly fucked up your mind. You are speaking to me like Raditz would, which is entirely unacceptable, you bald fucking _bitch_.”

“I’m sorry, Vegeta. It’s just funny. I knew you would find some woman one day, you don’t like to fuck around like the rest of us. It’s never been your thing.”

Vegeta stared at the table, his cheeks burning as Nappa poured him yet another glass of liquid. The older Saiyan had noticed quite a bit about Vegeta, things that he himself hadn’t entirely come to realize on his own. He didn’t fuck anything that flashed tits at him like they did, had never wanted to, hadn’t _ever_ wanted to- even as a horny teenager. His biological urges had always been an odd, awkward feeling, and masturbation was the bane of his existence. It was a need he couldn’t ignore forever, It was his body running the show instead of him, and that was shameful and infuriating.

But, the thought of bedding Bulma was exciting, terrifying, yet _entirely_ thrilling. He didn’t feel like it was some shameful bullshit that he needed to sweep under the rug, not with her. And even speaking to her was nice, he liked to listen to her voice and strange accent. He wanted to kiss her again, touch her skin, feel her body react to his like it had before. She wanted him so badly…and he had fucking _left_ her.

 He cursed himself endlessly for leaving that shithole garage, cursed himself for pretending like Nappa’s stupid call was something important when in reality it was a call about his own chip being declined by the management of the hotel; they wouldn’t run it until he showed his own ID. He remembered how confused Nappa was when he had told him _“Accepted. My company will assemble and depart immediately”,_ and then dropping the call without any context. In retrospect, that was probably a big tip off to the bald man that he was doing something out of the ordinary…

But ultimately, Vegeta was ashamed that he _had_ bailed, and he was more humiliated by the fact that he was too terrified to mount the woman when she had laid out for him. He had sometimes fantasized about taking the reins in sexual encounters, being dominant in the bedroom as on the killing field, but when it came down to it, he was scared shitless. Terrified of being a disappointment to her. She wasn’t like any other woman, she deserved his best…

“Nothing to be ashamed of, prince. Our people typically mated for life, it’s in your genes.” Nappa responded quietly, bringing Vegeta back from his inner conflicts. The older Saiyan looked past his prince with a faraway stare, as if he was reliving some moment on the home planet, a memory nearly lost to time and one that could never be relived. Probably something involving his own woman, long dead now.

Vegeta worked his jaw as he went over one question that had been haunting him since his first kiss with Bulma, and since light had finally been shed on his situation, why the fuck not ask? He felt like shit, and feeling foolish was much lower than normal on his list of problems at the moment.

“Nappa, did our people ever…” He stalled, trying to come up with the word in the Saiyan language and failing, so he spoke it in the universal tongue, “Kiss?”

Nappa looked up at his prince, stone faced a short moment before he grinned lopsidedly.

“Yes, but only in the bedroom.”

So, it _was_ a behavior intrinsic to Saiyans, and maybe that’s why it felt so right. That was all he needed to know.

-

Bulma pulled off her goggles, rubbing her eyes with the back of one grimy hand before standing up with a yawn. She rolled out of her workspace and turned her swiveling chair to face the garage doors. Cort was still working away, the back half of his stout body was hanging out of a panel of a half finished aerocar, his tail wrapped instinctually around the frame just in case he lost his balance. He never did, but evolution wasn’t something the body easily ignored.

“I hope we get more nice days like this.” Bulma said out loud, breathing deeply of the unusually warm spring air. It wasn’t quite the freshest, since they were still within the city, but it was better than the stale air of the garage they had been cooped up in for months.  

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, throwing a tool to the floor far below and backing out from the panel with a few unattractive groans. She knew the Tarnelian was no stranger to the effects of old age, and she always felt for him on his bad days.

“I’m gonna’ close up shop for the evening.” He grumbled, expertly climbing down from his perch and to the floor, and he fumbled at his breast pocket for a cigarette while he waddled toward the open garage door.

“Good thinking, I’m pooped. Ready for bed.”  Bulma sighed, pulling out two cigarettes from her own pocket when she observed Cort come up empty handed. Cort grinned as she extended the cigarette, and he waddled over to snatch it from her hand.

“You’re a good woman, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He growled, his deep, gravelly voice vibrating in a way that never failed to fascinate Bulma. It was almost as if he had two voices, one a deep bass, and the other a higher pitched warble that was drowned out over the vibration of the deeper tone.

“Huh, tell that to the world then.” Bulma laughed, striking her lighter easily and offering the Tarnelian the flame. He lit the end of the cigarette and puffed until the cherry glowed red, and Bulma followed suit with her own as she twirled leisurely in her chair, flipping the lid to her lighter absentmindedly as she unwound.

“Don’t think they’d believe me.” Cort exhaled, leaning on the wall separating Bulma’s work area from her apartment steps. Bulma laughed, taking a long drag from her cigarette and tried fruitlessly to blow smoke rings.

“Cort, me and you gotta’ go out drinking sometime. Have some space whiskey and bitch about life, what do you say?” Bulma grinned, watching Cort’s large ears lower comically.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Bulma?” He chuckled, coughing slightly as she laughed out loud.

“Yep, a date. _Sure_. No really though, we’ve been friends for how long now? And we haven’t once gone out for a drink.”

“You havin’ man troubles, woman troubles?”

“No, god no. Well, no….” Bulma trailed, her mind flashing to the face of a Saiyan prince she barely knew. Silly…so silly, after all this time, “It’s nothing really, just want to go to some shithole bar and listen to bad music and get drunk and mad at the world with my alien dad.”  

“Shit. _Alien dad_. Sure, sure. Whatever. You know, why not, got a lot to bitch about these days.” He shrugged, taking another drag before waddling toward the garage doors. Bulma grinned, thinking that she really did consider him like a father, and she knew that he thought of her like the daughter he never had. Shit, she hadn’t been much past her teenage years when she found herself on Opalian, she wasn’t much more than a kid back then…

“Good. On Friday, then?” Bulma replied, watching the automatic doors shutter as they lowered, making a horrible racket that definitely needed to be tended to. It needed to be tended to months ago…

“Fine. Alright. I’m gonna’ go up front and deal with some paperwork before I leave.”

“Alright Cort, have a good night.”

Bulma watched Cort shuffle out with his hand thrown up, and she rolled back to her workspace to stare at the half-completed job on the table. She made a face, deciding to solder some wires before her full retirement for the night.

-

The last time he had stepped foot on the miserable planet of Opalian, it was freezing- sleet pouring from the sky and the plague gripping half the city. It looked like shit, smelled like shit- was utterly, complete shit- but _she_ had lived within its walls, and she was the reason for his journey.

The last time he had been on the planet, he was with _her_ , and now _she_ was below, talking to her dumpy alien friend and sharing a smoke. Vegeta crinkled his nose up, thinking of her taking the wretched creature to her bed, but he saw no indication of that sort of relationship between them. That, in and of itself, was a relief. They were friends, comrades- nothing more.

He watched until the alien lowered the doors, and his tail flicked in agitation when he couldn’t see her anymore. He had slept for nearly a year, he had lost all that time- and what exactly, had she done with hers? It was a good question, really. Had she found a mate, taken other men? She could have. At least she was still here, although he thought that she wouldn’t quite feel the same way. She didn’t like the place any more than he did, and she had a secret. She must have had some sort of negative event that brought her to the planet, and there was a reason she couldn’t get off of it. She was too good for Akuiper…

Vegeta rubbed the bridge of his nose as he contemplated his next move. His head was still busting from the cryo, but that could last for days- so there was no need to wait until he felt better. He had traveled through two fucking galaxies to see her, and he couldn’t think of a good reason not to walk right through those doors.

But It was never that easy though, not with him.

 “Goddamn you woman, why do you have this effect on me.” He growled under his breath, his fists clenching and unclenching agitatedly as he sat with his legs dangling over the roof of the apartment complex below.

“This is pointless… what if I spend a night with her- a week or even months… I’ll just have to leave again. Sooner than later, that’s how it works. No bonds for soldiers.” He hissed, his mind distraught and his teeth grinding as he deliberated with himself.

He remembered the way she had smelled, as if he had never left the presence of her scent, and he could nearly taste her mouth again. Their _kiss_ \- It was something new and exhilarating- a pleasure that wasn’t forged from death and destruction, and that alone held such incredible appeal to him. It was something only shared in the confines of the bedchamber, like sex. Sex was an awkward act, and the biological urge to couple was a shame that he had harbored for so long, but maybe it really was all because he hadn’t ever had a mate. And it had to be a _true_ mate, not some sad fuck in a cheap hotel room, not his damn hand in a bed made for one. _But…_

He could never have a mate.

He could never have a bond.

He could never…

-

Cort sat in a tall chair at the dingy customer counter, going through invoices before his departure for the night. He stamped the paid ones and put the rest in the red box- the unpaid ones that he would have to call up, possibly threaten the deadbeats. Despite his diminutive stature and his age, he was still strong as an ox and wasn’t above beating the shit out of a customer that refused to pay. 

“Fucking low life trash.” He hissed, throwing another unpaid invoice in the red box when the door opened with a high pitched chime. He looked up, pinning his large ears back as the Saiyan strode up to the counter.

_Saiyans._

The best thing that had ever happened to the universe was when those bastards were eradicated… and yet, they were like pests- they wouldn’t ever die out completely.

“What d’you want Saiyan, we’re closed.” Cort hissed, detecting an immense energy rolling off the unwanted visitor. He was wearing casual clothing, but Cort suspected that the man had to be a soldier, and a hell of a strong one at that. He would have to tread carefully with this one.

The Saiyan narrowed his eyes and stood before the Tarnelian with his arms crossed and his tail flicking in a way that Cort didn’t like at all. His entire presence was cocky, controlling- dominant. It was unsettling, it was bad news.

“Bulma. Is she…coupled with anyone?” The stranger asked under his breath, and Cort stared at him in surprise. Bulma…of course she would go after a creature that looked so much like her. Stupid girl, she obviously had no idea how dangerous a Saiyan could be.

“Look here buddy, Bulma ain’t none of your concern. You need to turn around and leave, you got it?” Cort ground one stubby finger into the surface of the counter, and the Saiyan followed suit, banging his fist on the tabletop hard enough to send cracks snaking out from the impact.

“You look here- I’ve destroyed your kind before and I have no problem doing it again old man. I asked you a fucking question, you better answer it.” The Saiyan spoke through gritted teeth, making his canines clear to see, dominating, alpha… _destroyer_. Cort pinned his ears back as far as they would go, and he flicked his nearly spent cigarette over the counter with abandon as he bared his own canines.

“Get out. I’ll call the cops.”

“Cops can’t do shit to an elite, _pal_.”

The Saiyan leaned in, threatening… Cort’s instinct to flee began to overwhelm his senses but he was too mad to care about that...

_Bulma._

-

“Hey what the hell’s going on in here…” Bulma trailed as she came around the corner, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Vegeta leaning over the counter and glaring at Cort, who had his teeth bared as well. An altercation, _of course_ …

But it was really him, after so long… it had been _so_ long.

“Vegeta.” She murmured, her stained hands dropping to her sides as she stared in disbelief. Vegeta backed away from the counter, folding his arms once again, his face turning a lovely shade of red that made Bulma smile despite her shock. She shook her head and exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

“You, you came back. Where’ve you been?” She asked him quietly, approaching him slowly, expecting him to back away, but she was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t balk.

“In another galaxy.” He mumbled, watching her with eyes just a bit too wide. He was just as enthralled by her, it seemed.

Bulma stopped to stand in front of the Saiyan, and she silently reached out for his long sleeve, feeling the material absentmindedly, surprised once again that he didn’t pull away like he had the last time.

“And you came back _here_.” She whispered, looking up from his sleeve to his face, meeting his eyes as he nodded. She smiled sweetly at him, swept up in him, smelling the scent of his clean clothes and longing to smell his skin, taste him, wrap her arms around him and take him to bed. She had longed for it, thought of him so many lonely nights as she rubbed a vibrator over herself, knowing she was crazy to think she would ever see the soldier ever again.

But here he was.

-

Vegeta swallowed hard, his initial rage cooled immediately when he locked eyes with hers. He wasn’t at all the best judge of the emotions of others, but he could see the shock written all over her face. She hadn’t expected to ever see him again. His stomach fell when she said his name, his face flushing with the all too familiar heat that always gave away his stupid embarrassment.

Despite her dirty work shirt, her grimy hands (still stained) and her hair a tangled mess on top of her head- she was still just as gorgeous. She was still just as goddamn captivating. 

He didn’t hesitate when she grabbed for him, in fact, he was pleased and nervous, somewhat giddy for her touch. He was ready to embrace her, kiss her… but needed a stiff drink first. Always needed that drink…

But he lost his train of thought when she smiled at him, a genuine thing he had seen so rarely in all his years. When was the last time someone had been so honestly happy to see him? Shit- It had to have been his mother, so long ago.

“And you came back _here_.” She whispered to him, and it was true. He came all the way back to his least favorite city, on his least favorite planet… to see her. In the grand scheme of things, it was utterly stupid. She could have been anywhere else, five billion miles from Akuiper if she was lucky. She could have been mated, could have been disinterested, could have moved on and forgotten about him. But by the look in her eyes, he could clearly tell that she had not moved on.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Cort finally spoke up with incredulity, breaking the implicit connection that the two were experiencing, and Vegeta shot him a glance of pure hatred while Bulma laughed.

“Cort, this is a friend that I haven’t seen in some time, Vegeta- this is my business partner and alien dad.”

Vegeta side eyed her for the ‘alien dad’ remark, before turning back to the Tarnelian who still sat, beet faced and ready to fight.

“Well he broke the damn counter, you see this?” Cort fumed, tracing one stumpy finger over the cracks that the Saiyan had made a short time earlier. Vegeta growled low in his throat, wanting more than anything to rip the ugly fuckers head right off for being an asshole and interrupting them.

“Let’s… not worry about that right now.”

“ _Mhmm_.”

“I’m sorry Cort, I’ll get it fixed soon. Right now I need to catch up with Vegeta, I haven’t seen him in nearly two years.”

 _Two years._ Had it really been almost two fucking years? The time in cryo had really fucked with his head, and he still couldn’t believe that the woman hadn’t moved on in that period. Had she thought of him, had she missed him? He thought that probably, she had.

-

Cort knitted his hairless brows together as he slid off the chair, his large feet thudding as they hit the floor, and he waddled past the two without another glance. Before he opened the door to leave, he turned to Bulma with narrowed, angry eyes.

“Saiyans are no good Bulma, killers. All of them. No good.” He mumbled before slamming the door behind himself. Bulma stared after him with a sad smile, and then back to the Saiyan standing in front of her, his arms crossed and his face unreadable, besides his eyes. They were softer than she remembered, longing.

Bulma reached up and gently tugged at the Saiyan’s arms, and although he hesitated, he relinquished his stoic posture and allowed her to pull them down to his side, and when she leaned in, he also let her without a qualm. She hugged him hard, pressing her face into his firm chest and breathed his scent deeply. He smelled clean, and his skin was almost musky, like something primitive and earthy despite the fact he had been amongst the stars for god knew how long.

She remained in the embrace for several moments before he gingerly returned the action, and she felt tears begin to well up in her eyes as he laced his arms around her waist, breathing in deeply of her hair as she fought her emotions and lost. It had been so long…so damn long since she had embraced anyone and had been hugged in return. Humans were social primates that thrived on the touch of others, and she had been denied the feeling for too long. And now, the man she had never thought she would see again, the one she had been so fond of, was embracing her back, grabbing her tighter as she wept.

-

The woman’s hold on him was awkward, but incredibly, indescribably satisfying. He had never embraced anyone as he held her then; it wasn’t sexual, and it wasn’t charged with any sort of emotion that he could place. He felt her warm breath through his shirt, and he could smell the oil and fuels on her from her days work, but most importantly, he could smell her.

He pressed his nose into her disheveled hair and inhaled deeply. Her scent, _damn_ \- feminine, sweet and intoxicating and just how he remembered it. He had registered the fragrance in his mind, an association with contentment, an odd emotion that he had felt so little in his days.

Vegeta wasn’t sure what to do with his own hands in the moments following her embrace, but he felt that he needed to return the gesture, that it would likely be a positive feeling for her as well, and so he did. Slowly, awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested them on her back, but he nearly pulled away when he could smell the salt of tears and hear her breath hitch. Tears were not positive, but before he could move she grabbed him tighter as if she wanted to squeeze the life out of him with her slight, pathetic arms, and so he returned the gesture once again, but with minimal force.

She was a fragile thing, anyhow.

They remained this way for several minutes, and Vegeta closed his eyes, calming, his body losing its rigidness, his adrenaline slowing, and he let himself be truly, utterly content. It was the first time, without alcohol, that he felt so unburdened, and when she pulled away to look at him he was slightly disappointed, wanting more of the feeling, not wanting to let go of her.

“Vegeta, I’m a mess. I’m sorry, it’s just been so long, and I’m still shocked you’re here. I still can’t believe you came back.” Bulma gave him a grin, her eyes still watering and red, and he wasn’t sure how to take her emotions or statement. What did she mean, why did she apologize? Was it that she was sorry because she was seeing someone? He would rip their throats out…

“Are you, have you found anyone, taken a mate or…” He trailed, blushing again as she shook her head.

“No, no. I’ve- _god_ I know it’s pathetic, but I never forgot about you. I barely know you, but you’ve been on my mind a lot since our last conversation.” She smiled at him, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. She hadn’t taken a mate, and she hadn’t forgotten about him. It was almost too good to be true.

“Why are you a mess?” He asked, still confused by the statement, and she laughed genuinely.

“Because I’m crying, it makes me ugly. And also, because I’m literally a mess,” She motioned to her dirty clothes, “I’m covered in shit from work.”

“Ah.”

“What galaxy were you in, how long are you here for? I have so many questions!” She responded, her solemn demeanor changing rapidly as she grabbed his hand with both of hers. He didn’t care for it at first, but he allowed it, and it was okay.

“I was in the eighteenth quadrant of the Calibri galaxy when attainment had been stalled, I’m not sure how long I’ll be on leave…”

Bulma’s eyes brightened at his words, and she squeezed his hand tightly.

“Seriously? That far, it must have taken you forever to get here, did you go into stasis?”

“Yes.”

“It’s been such a short time for you, then. My god. We have so much to catch up on, let’s go up to the room. I need to clean up, too.” Bulma winked as she tugged on the Saiyans hand, trying to get him to follow her as if he couldn’t trail her on his own. Regardless of the absurdity, he obliged without protest, still wondering why in the hell she had winked at him. So odd. What an odd, wonderful creature she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry it's taken so long to update, I've been a very busy bee lately and all of my creative energy has been going into other projects. I do have a clear view of the next two to three chapters of Indigo though (to the very end), and I'm so excited to share them with y'all sooner than later :D
> 
> Also thanks so much to hannabellLector for editing my poor grammar (lol), you're awesome!
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading <3


	6. Bonded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince and the woman discover one another; they make confessions.
> 
> Vegeta worries.

The apartment was dark and cool, but Vegeta was on fire, anxious and excited of what was to transpire in the coming night. Bulma had invited him to her bath, but he had balked, knowing that he wasn’t quite ready for that. He had thought about it of course, wondered what it would be like to couple in the shower on several lonely nights- but that was something that could come in time. Tonight, was about a forging a bond, something more than just casual fucking. He needed it to be something meaningful for the first time in his goddamn life.

Vegeta had decided to treat her as a mate, at least until he had to leave. It could be weeks, it could be months or even years, but while he was there, he wanted her for as long as she would have him.

He knew that forming a connection with her was going to be nothing but trouble in the end, though, and he was disturbed by the thought of breaking the bond when he was called back to duty- but he couldn’t help himself. His selfish desire to be with her was too strong, his craving to take her as a mate- too encompassing. 

And so, he waited for her, listening to the water finally shut off, his heart racing when he knew that the time was upon him to confess, to act- but this time he was more confident. This time was going to mean something…

-

Bulma hummed to herself as she toweled off, paying careful attention to drying her mechanical leg and wondering what the Saiyan was doing at the moment- and what the night would entail. She was excited, absolutely enthralled by the prospect of having sex with him, but she didn’t want to push him. The last thing she wanted was Vegeta pretending like he had to take a call and running out on her once again…

But Bulma believed that something in the Saiyan had changed, though she wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly _what_ it was. He wasn’t standoffish for one, in fact he was being quite receptive to her-but something seemed different, in a positive way. He had clearly thought about her, had obviously cared enough about her to travel countless light-years to be with a woman he knew so little of. If he had just wanted sex, he could have found it anywhere in the universe.

Bulma’s heart raced as she pulled a plush robe over her shoulders, tying the fabric belt in the middle, and she took a deep breath when she put her hand on the knob, turning it slowly.

She stepped out of the bathroom with her typical, uneven sounding gait and found Vegeta sitting at the end of her bed. She smiled at him as he watched her, his arms crossed tightly, and his tail wrapped around his waist as if she was an enemy ready to pounce. Perhaps to him, she was the opponent, and he was preparing himself for her like he would prepare for any battle.

The idea made her want to laugh, but she stayed cool, asking if he wanted anything to drink.

“No,” Vegeta mumbled, keeping his dark eyes on her as she made her way toward the bed, sitting down next to him with her long, damp hair trailing over one shoulder. He watched her a moment, the gears in his mind obviously turning as he made to speak, and she watched in confusion as he sighed.

-

He had lied about the alcohol. While he had each word and motion planned out in his mind, he wasn’t sure he would be of much use while completely sober- and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. He was confident in what he could do with his hands, and he had a good idea of what he could do to pleasure her with the rest of himself, but he needed some fire first. He needed some whiskey.

He sighed deeply, shaking his head as he stood.

“I’m going to get a drink,” He mumbled, his mouth dry and longing for the dark amber liquid that he hoped she would be harboring in the kitchen. He remembered exactly where she had kept her bottles before, and she began to tell him what cabinet they were in before trailing off to silence when he uncovered his jewel. _Whiskey_. A whole fucking bottle, too… _curious._

Had she remembered that he had asked for it?

“You have whiskey,” He murmured, giving her a side eye as he unscrewed the lid of the new bottle.

“Yeah…I know this sounds stupid now, but I got it after you left. I figured if you ever came back I’d have it.”

“Thanks,” He grinned to himself, making sure as hell that she wouldn’t see his face as he did. No one had gotten him anything since he was a spoiled child, and it was an odd feeling- a simple joy. It immediately irritated him how much he appreciated the thought of her intentionally buying _him_ a bottle of his favorite poison.

“Yeah, I hope you like it. It’s not the most expensive bottle in the galaxy.”

“It’s fine,” He said, pouring himself a shot and tipping it up without a second thought, letting the heat slide down his throat cathartically. The whiskey was just okay, not the best he’d had by any means, but it didn’t matter. She had gotten it for him.

He poured himself two more shots, downing them quickly when she asked him to bring her a glass.

“I’m a prince, I don’t serve,” He mumbled, flicking the end of his tail and pulling a short tumbler from above her alcohol stash, pouring it full despite his contrary words.

“My house, my rules- _prince_ ,” Bulma laughed, watching as Vegeta did as she bid him, and he took a long drink of the spirit before walking back to her. He hadn’t remembered serving anyone before, and although he felt like it should have been beneath him, it wasn’t. Not with her.

Vegeta’s confidence began to grow as his head began to swim, and he handed the glass off to Bulma, who took a long drink, her face scrunching up humorously as she swallowed. He raised an eyebrow at her as she laughed, turning on the dim lamp on her nightstand and setting the glass down on the surface.

“This is awful.”

“It’s not…the worst.”

He didn’t lie, he’d had shoddier whiskey…

“It _is_ the worst,” She grinned, motioning for him to sit down next to her, and he obeyed, his heart speeding up as he breathed in her clean scent. He was so close to her now, all he needed to do was just lean forward less than two feet to place his lips on hers- feel what he had craved since he had left her so long ago…

But he needed to make a confession before the night proceeded, needed to let her know...

\-  

It began to rain.

“I still can’t believe you’re here.” Bulma whispered, still trying to grasp at the surreal situation, the fact that the object of her ridiculous infatuation had returned so unexpectedly still baffled her. He turned to her, his face almost pained, seeming to be unsure of what to do with his hands as the rain pattered against the window next to her bed. He hesitated once again- he was clearly stalling, but she waited patiently until he found the words that he was looking for.

“I’m not sure how long I’ve got until I’m called back out,” He admitted, averting his gaze from hers before grabbing the glass of whiskey she had abandoned, taking another long swig before replacing it near the lamp.

“I know, I understand.” Bulma replied, trying hard not to think about that negative aspect of his return. She only wanted to think about the present, about the time they did have before his inevitable departure.

“While- I…”  He  exhaled, closing his eyes before continuing, “I will stay by your side as long as you’ll have me, take… you as my mate for that time,” He managed, his face turning an obvious shade of red despite the darkened room. Bulma looked at him in surprise, wondering how to respond to his proclamation- she wasn’t sure if it meant that she would be more like a wife or a girlfriend, but regardless she nodded at him with a smile, her heart rabbiting as she placed an indigo stained hand on his rough and calloused one.

She didn’t care what it meant, as long as they were together- even for a short time.

-

It happened so suddenly that Vegeta didn’t have time to even think, and he instinctually opened his arms for Bulma when she leaned into him. The woman didn’t hesitate when she pressed her lips firmly on his, and he opened his mouth for her gratefully, reciprocating her advances as hazy desire suddenly took control of his body. He had known it would be intense to kiss her once again, was sure he had dreamed about it nonstop in cryo- but it was _much_ more than he had imagined. He felt alive, a hungry, overpowering sensation that he hadn’t quite prepared for, and he let it consume him.

The prince melted into her, remembering every fluid motion of their last kiss two years before, and he ran his hands over her back, pulling her into his chest before rolling over with her onto her plush comforter. She tangled her legs with his as they shared a moment he had never experienced before, something he was eager to move forward with. He cupped her head in both of his hands as she ran her nimble fingers through his hair- _god it felt good_ … and Vegeta felt an overwhelming emotion that he wasn’t familiar with, something deviously _wholesome_ creeping from up from his gut.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but he wasn’t going to fight it. It felt too good to fight anymore.

-

Bulma was pleasantly surprised by Vegeta’s quick reciprocation of her advances, she couldn’t help herself when she kissed him, her heart full after his talk of taking her as his mate. She had momentarily worried it would scare him away- but no. He had pulled her in and laid her down, and now she was tangled up with him, limbs both natural and artificial, exhilaration filling the whole of her body.

She wanted more, needed more, could nearly bring herself to beg him for his touch like the last time he had pleasured her. She wanted to know what he looked like underneath his clothes, to taste him, feel him- _be one with him._

Bulma felt her cheeks flush as her desire grew, and almost as if he was on cue, Vegeta ran his hand down her body, making her shudder at his touch. He slipped his fingers under the bottom of her robe, meeting the skin of her natural upper leg with his palm as she moaned into his kiss, and he pressed his fingers into her flesh as his cock stiffened harder against her leg.

Bulma felt like grabbing his hand to guide his fingers into her, she was so desperate- but she maintained her composure as he dragged his hand up her curves, loosening up the tied fabric, nearly exposing her breasts as the robe sagged off her form.

The Saiyan sat up and parted her robe slowly, as if he knew he was going to be either horrified or enthralled with what lay underneath- but when he exposed her body it was worth every second of unfulfilled gratification. He swallowed audibly, visually devouring her nude form in the warm, dim light of her lamp, and he grabbed his own black shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside wordlessly.

Bulma took in her own delectable view of him, marveling at the Saiyan’s body, so perfectly chiseled and without an ounce of fat; but she was shocked at the innumerable scars covering a good portion of his tan skin. What in the hell had he endured in his life? God only knew…

She reached up, touching his abs and gazing in awe as she traced the valleys of his muscled form.

“You’re amazing,” She whispered, shimmying out of the open robe and sitting up to meet him, fully nude and pressing her bare breasts against his chest, relishing the feel of his skin on hers. It had been countless, lonely years… _damn._

Bulma hugged him tightly, breathing in the earthy musk of his skin and noticing it was on fire. The man radiated a heat that she hadn’t been quite aware of until she touched him in the nude, and she wondered if her body felt cold to him as he embraced her back, nipping the skin of her neck as she sighed.

-

Vegeta marveled at her form, committing her curves to memory as he tossed his own shirt to the side of the bed. Bulma was one of the few truly beautiful things he had ever seen in the universe, and she was giving herself to him. How he could have ever denied her before, he would never understand. He had been a fucking coward.

Bulma told him he was amazing, something no woman had ever said to him before, and then she reached up to touch him. He shivered at her indigo fingers as she traced his abs, going ever lower, thrilling him for more before she sat up and embraced him.

Vegeta was at a loss for breath as Bulma pressed her body against his- hers so delicate, pale and soft, and he now knew that he was supposed to wrap his arms around her too. He was catching on quickly.

He could smell her true scent under the soap when he nipped and kissed her neck, and he wanted nothing more than to please her, to truly become her mate. So, he tilted her back, his mind and body terrified and filled with nervous adrenaline as he mounted her. He laid her head back softly on the bed as he pressed his restrained cock against her, already wishing for there to be nothing in between them... wishing to make her his.

-

Bulma moaned for him as he mounted her, she was captivated with his control of the situation, and she wanted nothing more than for him to enter her, fill her up with the pleasure she craved. They were so close now, just the fabric of his pants in between them, and she whimpered as he pressed himself into her as if he were getting ready to go, making all the motions and driving her stark raving mad with desire.

“I want you, more than you could know,” She breathed as the rain picked up, thrumming against the window and roof of the garage, and he leant down to kiss her deeply once more, nipping her lip before sitting up on his knees. Bulma watched him with hooded eyes, her body on fire as Vegeta hesitated momentarily before unbuttoning his pants, gingerly taking out his manhood before sidling out of the offending fabric and tossing it aside.

The Saiyan took a long, shaky breath, running his hands over Bulma’s skin once more as he edged into place, causing her heart to hammer as he mounted her once again, pressing his throbbing cock against her mound as she whimpered below.

-

“Are you…okay. Ready?” He had asked her anxiously, unsure of whether she was fine with the quick progression of the situation. He wanted to please her, wanted to make sure she was prepared for him, needed to know for sure before he went barging in like a goddamn fool...

“Yes,” She breathed, and he bit his lower lip as he guided himself to her borderline, his breath hitching as he realized the slickness of her, and he felt himself losing his damn mind as the heady scent of her arousal permeated his senses. He was thrilled with the fact that she was more than ready, he didn’t even have to do anything and she was this wet for him… _fuck._

The Saiyan entered Bulma slowly, his body swooning from the incredible, tight sensation as he stretched her threshold, and the woman mewled below him in her own ecstasy. She gripped his arms as they both watched him disappear inside of her completely, and he closed his eyes, his heart hammering as he began to thrust slowly, instinctually, his body alight with intense, all-consuming pleasure.

 _Fucking_ _Perfect_.

Bulma panted heavily as she pulled him back into her, as if she needed his heat, and he obliged willingly, meeting the skin of her neck with his parted lips, licking and tasting the salt of her sweat starting to bead on her skin as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

It was all nearly too much, but Vegeta put his years of tolerance training to use and held out his climax, panting into the crook of her neck as she moaned louder, digging her nails hard into his back as she began to call out his name.

“Vegeta! VEGETA!”

Never had that happened before.

No one had ever called out his wretched name in pleasure- and it spurred him on to thrust harder, deeper, with more confidence. He felt himself biting into the flesh of her shoulder and tasting a hint of copper from her blood- but not too hard, _not too much_ \- as his climax fought its way past his resolve. He was losing himself to her entirely, and that was okay. It was all finally okay.

-

Bulma was losing herself to him as well, digging her nails into his hard skin, panting his name- _screaming_ his name as her approaching rapture came ever closer, her body experiencing pure ecstasy after countless years of celibacy. She vaguely felt him biting her, felt the pain mingled in with her pleasure, but she ignored it as he bucked into her with his climax, groaning slightly as the heat of his seed filled her deep within, spurring her own orgasm with the scream of his name.

Bulma’s reality become lights, bright flashes and then full darkness as intense pleasure fluttered from her core to her extremities, filling her with an all-encompassing euphoria as she trembled around the Saiyan’s girth.

-

Vegeta felt the shivering of her walls around his cock when his own climax came to an end, and he exhaled shakily as she finished. A thin sheen of sweat on his body chilled his heated skin as he pulled out of her, and he fell over to her side, breathing heavily into her neck and reeling from his dream made reality.

-

The rain had become a storm, thunder and lightning filling up the dark room with its sound and light. Bulma lay on her side, the Saiyan’s tail wrapped around her natural leg and her forehead touching his scarred back as they rested in silence.

Bulma pressed her lips to his back, breathing in deeply of the Saiyan’s scent and kissing his scarred skin gently before breaking the calm between them. She promised him an answer for a question that he had asked years prior, and she felt like it was finally time to share.

“I told you that I’d tell you about my leg after I got to know you.”

“Yes,” He muttered, sounding as if he had nearly fallen asleep.

“I still have a lot to learn about you, and that’s okay, but I want you to know.”

“Mhmm.”

“I was on a deep space exploration trip with my father and a few other scientists, it was our first expedition so far from our home world and it was a huge step out for our planet. My dad- well, he was Earth’s most brilliant scientist, and I’m not just saying that because he was my father. He really was.

We set out to discover new technologies and untapped resources since our planet was lacking in a lot of rare metals needed for extensive technological growth. We made it around two thousand, three hundred light-years from Earth when our ship was attacked, either by pirates or some of Frieza’s men- I’ll never know because I blacked out before the ship made a crater in the face of Opalian that can likely still be seen from orbit.

I should have died, my god, everyone else did- and I only survived by getting into an escape pod at the last second, I ejected before I fainted but I assume it got caught up on the falling ship since it didn’t land correctly. The pod was heavily padded of course, but it hit the ground so hard that the hatch was pushed back and crushed most of my leg.

Our ship crashed close enough to Akuiper so that I wasn’t stranded. I would have died if it had been further out, and the only reason I lived after that was because the collection agency for the hospital salvaged enough scrap from the ship to pay for my medical care, so they sealed what was left of this mess and turned me out in an alien city without a damn clue of what to do. _Real altruistic_ , this bunch.

I was shit out of luck after that. It wasn’t that we didn’t have money, we were filthy rich- the richest family on Earth, but everything I needed to collect credits, or even get home- was gone. The ship had been utterly destroyed and had been picked over by looters by the time I was well enough to get back to it.

I managed to save few things that would only have value to me. A dumb stuffed animal from my childhood and a Rubik’s cube, as well as some other junk I salvaged from my room. The only thing of true value I got to keep was my father’s platinum wedding ring, which was given to me by a rare, kind soul running the morgue. I was shocked I got it back.

Anyhow, I had to hobble around this goddamn city, pawning off the little bit of picked over shit I could manage to pry off the ship until I could buy the basic parts to build my leg. The first version wasn’t this nice at all, but it was good enough to catch Cort’s eye and take me on at the garage. He was just starting this place up, didn’t have a ton of money and I didn’t have anything- but I promised him I’d pay half of the loan by making robotic prosthetics, aftermarket repairs, small tech- etcetera. And so, here I am.

But now I can’t leave. I’ve got to pay Cort back, even though he’s nearly begged me to leave- told me to do myself a favor get the fuck out of Akuiper. But to be honest I have no money to even buy a ship, and no way of finding home because there are no charts to find Earth. My planet isn’t on the empire maps, it hasn’t been cursed by Frieza’s clutches yet- at least when I left nearly twelve years ago. So, I’m stuck any way you look at it.

That’s my story, not great or all that interesting, but that’s how I lost my leg. That’s the answer to your question, two years later.”

Bulma waited for him to answer for several drawn-out moments, horrified that he had possibly went to sleep during her confessional monologue- before he turned over to face her, his dark eyes resting on hers with a deadpan stare.

“I was the heir to the throne on my planet, not just a second or third in line- I was to be king. Ruling my entire species was my inheritance, and I was raised in luxury until I was stolen from the arms of the queen, my mother, to become a hostage of Frieza. Shortly after, my entire planet was destroyed under suspicious circumstances.

I’ve heard rumors that it was Frieza that destroyed Vegetasei, effectively ending my birthright, my species, and family in one fell swoop- and I have no doubt that he did it, he’s a fucking bastard- but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it now. I’ve tried getting stronger over the years, but no matter what, his strength dwarfs every piece of shit soldier in his military. I’m an elite, but I don’t hold a candle to some of the special forces soldiers, and he could crush them in an instant.

I’ll be spending the rest of my life as a soldier, because I literally cannot leave Frieza’s ranks. He would track me down and kill me himself. I am his whipping boy and will always be his trophy, representing my failed species and lost birthright.

That’s my story.”

Bulma stared at Vegeta, her eyes wide with horror as she processed everything he had just told her. He turned away from her again, but kept his tail wrapped firmly around her leg. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to one-up her or not, but she suspected he wasn’t. He was simply telling her about himself, since she had admitted her own tragic past; and now she had to deal with his heart-rending revelation, process it the best that she could.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need pity,” He mumbled as thunder shook the apartment, and she wrapped her arm around his chest, holding him tightly.

“I know,” She whispered as the room lit up with a strobe of light, and she pressed her face into his shoulder, wishing to any god who would listen that the storm would end soon.

-

Vegeta had admitted a lot to her, because he felt like she deserved that much. If she was to be his mate, then he needed to share more of himself, he supposed… even though he wasn’t too keen on that aspect. He hated more than anything to dredge up the past, to seem like anything from that time bothered him- when it all did, every single day.

He hated Frieza more than anything else, despised the revolting piece of shit with every fiber in his body- Vegeta detested talking about his destroyed planet and his lost birthright, loathed knowing that he was one of the very last of his people left in the entire universe, and was furious that his forced profession was a constant reminder of his weakness. He hated that he couldn’t do a fucking thing about any of it. It made him sick.

“Why did you bite me so hard?” Bulma spoke up, interrupting him from his ruminations, and he suddenly remembered the taste of her blood in the heat of his passion.

“I…it’s a Saiyan mating bond, I…” He trailed, feeling stupid for admitting something so base and primitive.

“A bond?”

“Yes.”

“It’s going to bruise.”

“I got carried away,” He mumbled, thinking that it could have easily been much more than a bruise. 

“It’s okay. Does this mean I get to bite you, now?” Bulma asked jokingly, and Vegeta gave her short spurt of genuine laughter.

“The males of my species marked their mates, claimed them. I…honestly don’t think I bit hard enough to leave my claim,” He swallowed, anxious about speaking of his nearly nonexistent species and their savage claiming instinct- of which he, of course, inherited.

“Oh.”

_Oh._

Vegeta was perturbed by her short answer but decided to ignore it. There was no way she could understand, she wasn’t a Saiyan despite her similarities…

“How hard do you need to bite? Will it be a ‘send me to the hospital’ kind of bite or will I just be really uncomfortable for a while?”

She was receptive to it, then...he was surprised.

“It won’t send you to the damn hospital, woman,” He grumbled, grinning to himself in the dark. She was a weak creature, though, and he had only heard of the bond between Saiyans…

“Then do it, I want it.”

“Now?”

“Maybe not tonight, I need to get something to sterilize it you know, maybe a med-o-seal to heal it right up.”

He laughed dryly.

“Sure.”

-

They had fallen asleep together as the storm waned, she with her arm still wrapped around him, he with his tail secured on her leg. Vegeta woke up in the middle of the night confused, taking a moment to realize where he was and what was happening.

He could smell her, her scent filling his senses and calming him; he was in her home, lying nude with her in a bed made for more than one. They had had sex, and he had finally gotten the courage to mount her, to be dominant for the first time in the bedroom- and establish himself as her mate. _Well_ , he hadn’t gotten to really bite her, but he wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to do it again. He didn’t want to seriously hurt the fragile woman in his mindless pleasure… but could he even contain himself?

Vegeta sighed, bringing up the fact that he wouldn’t be able to stay with her anyway, so marking her was completely selfish and pointless. And besides, the biting bond was ridiculous, primitive and unfit for a woman of such delicate physical constitution- and she wasn’t even a Saiyan. But what the fuck did that matter now? When it came down to it, if Bulma asked him to, if she _honestly_ wanted him to- he wouldn’t hesitate a second to bite her and make her his in the true Saiyan fashion. 

The prince pulled away from his new mate’s grip, watching her silently as she slept on her side, only stirring slightly when he sat up and untangled his tail from her leg. He ran his hands over his face, knowing good and well that he was not a man of prosperity, that things rarely ever went his way- and so, comprehending the rare good fortune of the incredible situation he had found himself in perplexed him greatly.

He wondered when his luck would run out, wondered when he would forever sleep in a single bed again- wondered when he would return to the bullshit, the loneliness, and monotony that had consumed most of his life. The fact that he hadn’t ever realized he was lonely before Bulma only baffled him further.

Vegeta had avoided the touch and company of others out of his own warped views on reality- views bred from fear; fear of losing everyone and everything once again. The dread was so great that he could never allow himself to become close to anyone or anything… until her. The woman was a wonder- an amazing, brilliant wonder of a creature, and he certainly didn’t deserve her- not even for a short time.

And so, he worried. Everything sacred to him had been destroyed before, and the one shining light he had managed to capture could certainly be snuffed out again; like a child with a tentative grasp on a lantern fly, it could crawl through the fingers and fly away- or just as easily be crushed by clumsy palms. Maybe his contentment wouldn’t be crushed by Frieza this time, but perhaps by some other stroke of misfortune.

He was a wretch, in the end.

He didn’t deserve her, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to @HannabellLector for being my beta!


	7. A Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta adjust to life together. Vegeta gets a new job- and a choice.

Cort knew something was up as soon as he waddled through the door to the garage. He narrowed his eyes as he blew a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth, and he scented the air, coming up with nothing unusual until he got closer to Bulma’s apartment. He could smell a _Saiyan._

“Goddamn it, Bulma,” he growled to himself, making to open up shop when he heard them, and he pricked his ears up, detecting the unmistakable sound of fucking. They were _fucking_ , for the love of the gods, Bulma had shacked up with a _Saiyan._ Of all the species in all the galaxies, it just had to be one of _those_ bastards...

“ _Goddamn it,_ _Bulma_ ,” Cort reiterated, hobbling to the garage doors, punching the button and hoping that it made enough racket to get the woman out of her bed and down to work. He wasn’t about to be bothered with a Saiyan, didn’t want the stink or the worry, no way. Not in his shop.

He snarled as he threw his spent cigarette butt out into the outdoor gravel, punching the button once again for good measure. Those doors were loud as shit, and he hoped that it ruined the mood.

-

They had been in the middle of making love when the sound of the garage doors interrupted them, but Bulma didn’t balk, riding Vegeta through his climax as the weak dawn sunlight sifted through the slats in her blinds.

He had hesitated when she had straddled him that morning, seeming to have second thoughts about his confidence. However, his reluctance quickly faded as she stroked him to an erection, letting her please him with nimble fingers before sliding herself onto his cock.

She had ridden him hard, causing him to come quickly- all just before the garage doors creaked and screeched their session short. Cort was going to be pissed, and she hadn't even gotten off. _Damn it_...

“I’ve got to get ready, it’s late. But make me a promise, okay?” Bulma sighed as Vegeta breathed deeply, coming down from his climax as he stared up at her with sweat beading on his forehead.

“What…?”

“Get me off with your tongue tonight.”

“You want me to _lick_ you?” he had asked incredulously, seemingly unsure of the act as Bulma had lifted herself off his waning erection. Surely, he had known about going down on a woman, even if he hadn’t ever done it…

“Yes, I mean- do you know how?” she had asked awkwardly, nearly fearing his answer as she grabbed her robe from the floor and wrapped it around her form messily.

“I’ve heard of such…acts,” he had answered in a murmur, glaring down at the slick mess they had made on his lower torso before worriedly looking back at her. She smiled softly at him, remembering that he had come a _very_ long way since the first time she had met him- and she decided it was best not to push him.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve got other things to please me with,” she said while winking at him, and she padded toward the bathroom for a shower as he watched her silently. Bulma stood in the doorframe, glancing back at Vegeta and remembering to ask him an important question before getting ready for the day.

“Hey, what are you doing today?”

Vegeta sat up, his tail swaying languidly as he thought hard about her inquiry.

“I’m going out,” was his simple answer, and she raised an eyebrow as he stared vacantly at the hazy outside world though the slats in the blinds before elaborating, “I’m going to speak to my subordinates about- well I'm going to the ship. Then I’m going to find work…”

Bulma stared at him in surprise as he fidgeted, his tail flicking agitatedly as he avoided her gaze. She really wasn’t sure what to expect since she had agreed to become his mate, but clearly, he meant to provide in some way- and that was a _relief._

-

After Bulma had gone downstairs, Vegeta had cleaned up in the woman’s less than spotless shower, eaten what he could find in the apartment and vowed to have the her buy a considerably different array of foods to fill the pantry. This was all shit he could easily have lived off of in space, but not when he was grounded on an agricultural planet. He needed real food, _fresh_ food.

He changed back into the clothes he had worn the day before, dreading the fact that he would have to face his two idiots when he went back to gather his shit from the ship. He knew Raditz and Nappa were going to have a lot of questions- albeit questions he didn’t have to answer since, of course, he didn’t owe them shit.

Vegeta pulled on his boots before opening the apartment door warily, looking down the steps and not seeing the woman or the hideous creature that she worked with. _That was good._

He didn’t want to run into the Tarnelian- what was his dumb name? _Cort_ … he knew the little bastard would have some snide words in store, and for Bulma’s sake, he didn’t want to rip the aliens head off. The little-bowlegged piece of shit _really_ got on his nerves, though.

Vegeta made it to the bottom step when Cort turned the corner and nearly into Vegeta, and the two stared at each other silently, brows knitted and eyes narrowed. _Just great._

The two men bared teeth at one another dangerously before Cort spoke up.

“Bulma had to run out for some parts. And _you_ ,” Cort pointed one stubby finger at Vegeta, “you owe us a new table top, _Saiyan_ ,”

Vegeta made to speak, thinking of spitting some poison back at the beast, but the Tarnelian walked past him without another word. Vegeta turned his head to glance over his shoulder, making sure the little turd didn’t make some sort of insolent gesture behind his back- but he didn’t, and so Vegeta made it out the garage door without Cort’s blood on his hands. All in all, it was a relief; Bulma would be pleased.

-

Nappa and Raditz didn’t say a word to Vegeta as he gathered the few belongings he owned from his dorm, packing them into a fabric bag and hauling it over his shoulder with ease. Vegeta had figured Nappa had opened his idiot mouth and had already told Raditz the reason that their Prince had wanted to return to Akuiper- probably after Vegeta didn’t return for the night, and he kept silent as they sat in the galley, smoking cigarettes and chugging water. Both of them had revealed that they still had headaches, but surprisingly, Vegeta found that he didn’t.

He chalked it up to the fact that he had been with his woman, receiving more pleasure then he had ever experienced before in his life- more than he could ever deserve- and it was an odd, almost gluttonous feeling. He wasn’t sure if she was a weakness or a strong point, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t get enough of her either way…

“I turned in my uniforms already. You two have to be off the ship by tomorrow if you don’t want to go in stasis,” Vegeta had muttered to them as he made his way to the exit, only looking back when Raditz had cleared his throat.

“Yeah, we already got the notice, we’re gonna’ go out and look for work. What are you gonna’ do?”

“Same. I know… _someone_.”

“Ok’thanian Liis?”

 _Of course_ , Raditz would know the exact shady bastard Vegeta had in mind…

“ _Yes_ ,” Vegeta replied, narrowing his eyes at the two Saiyans.

“We’re going to him later, looking for some merc’ work, or something. I know he could get us on as bouncers around the city, we’d be fucking good at that, right Nappa?” Raditz had elbowed Nappa who sighed, nodding his bald head apathetically.

“Yeah, well. I’m not doing _that,_ ” Vegeta had growled, thinking about how that particular job would be pure hell for him. He would rather die than have to endure a bar or a club for any extended amount of time, listening to horrendous music and trying not to gag from the rank smells those sorts of places managed to produce. Drunk people, drunk whores, just everything about the entire wretched atmosphere made him cringe… _nope_ , he wasn’t having any part of that.

Vegeta turned, getting ready to punch the latch for the door when the maned Saiyan opened his mouth one last time.

“ _So, Vegeta_ … where’re you staying? Word around Akuiper is that you’re getting some ass,” Raditz teased, foolishly trying to get under Vegeta’s skin. _The Prince had killed men for far less..._

Vegeta turned, glaring at his subordinates and working his jaw as he assessed the situation. He wasn’t sure if he should be angrier at Raditz, or at Nappa for running his goddamn mouth. Raditz’ shit-eating grin took up half his face as Nappa fidgeted, baring his teeth at the younger Saiyan before turning to Vegeta with an apologetic shrug. _Idiots_ , both of them.

“You know what, fuck _both_ of you. Hopefully I’ll never have to see either of you ever again,” Vegeta had finally managed, hitting the latch and pushing his way through the door before it fully retracted. He needed to get out of there before he decided to kick both of their worthless asses.

-

Bulma was tinkering with a small project, settling down after a long day when she heard a rapping on the garage doors. She didn’t really have to guess who it was, but she grabbed the electric prod next to her work bench just in case. One could never be too careful in Akuiper…

“Who is it?” she hollered, standing up from her chair, and she smiled to herself when Vegeta responded with a short and simple _‘me’._

“I need to make you a key if you’re going to be coming around every night,” she sang, walking to the garage doors and tapping the button to open them, making a face at the rickety screeching it produced as it raised.

The doors opened to reveal her Saiyan standing on the other side in the waning daylight, a fabric bag slung over his back and his trademark scowl upon his face. She was somewhat surprised, it looked like he had decided to stay with her during his time on leave…he was really taking this mate business seriously. It was an exciting prospect, though, not waking up alone, not coming back into a dark, lonely apartment night after night. Sharing her life with someone, even if it was only for a short time, was a pleasant, albeit somewhat frightening thought.

“So, you’re staying with me then? Until you go back?” she affirmed, slightly apprehensive of the answer before he raised his eyebrow incredulously.

“Of course, you’re my mate,” he had responded without pause as if her question was absolutely ridiculous. Bulma grabbed his arm with a smile, leading him over the threshold into the shop and surprising him with a kiss on the lips, one of which he responded to swiftly with his tongue. Vegeta touched Bulma’s arm with his free hand as she pressed her palms against his taut chest, and he soon dropped his bag to the floor as he embraced her gingerly, still as if he was unsure of what to do with himself as they kissed.

“Take it to your damn room,” Cort growled, interrupting the couple as he waddled in through the open garage door, and Vegeta tore himself away from Bulma in shock, as if he had been caught doing something naughty. Bulma had to suppress her laughter as Vegeta crossed his arms tightly.

“What are you doing Cort? I thought you were gone for the night,” Bulma bit back her grin, trying not to embarrass Vegeta any further as he blushed a crimson hue that any rose would be jealous of. It was amazing how he could be so sexy and yet so adorably awkward at the same time.

“I was outside talking to a customer, but _now_ I’m going to go through some invoices right after I promptly puke. I’d tell you to have a good night, but unfortunately, I know you will,” Cort growled, flicking his spent cigarette to rest with the others in the dirty gravel outside the garage doors.

Bulma sighed as she watched her Tarnelian friend shuffle away, wondering if Cort would ever get over her taking a Saiyan as a partner. He had said very little to her the entire workday, which wasn’t a good sign.  

Bulma turned to Vegeta, who had wrapped his tail up tightly, his pitiful bag of belongings once again slung over his shoulder as he gave her a nasty look. He had been embarrassed by their accidental public display of affection, and Bulma threw up her arms comically.

“Hey, it’s not my fault!”

“Right,” Vegeta had answered, already making his way up to her apartment without further comment. _Poor, poor Saiyan._

-

She hadn’t asked him what he had done that day, perhaps she didn’t want to know, or she didn’t care- but he had no reason to elaborate. He had spoken to Ok’thanian Liis, a well-known master of shady dealings, a broker of mercenaries as well as any form of hired muscle.

Vegeta had gone to him with his trademark attitude and cocky demeanor, and it had fortunately worked in his favor. He had proven himself easily, beating the shit out of four hulking thugs at once, killing one by snapping the man’s neck with the slightest hit, and Liis had happily set the Saiyan up with within his own mercenary guild. Vegeta was guaranteed at least eight hits a week, with jobs ranging from one hundred to three hundred credits- he could get higher paying, albiet riskier jobs in time. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was decent money in Akuiper, and the Saiyan had accepted the broker’s offer.

But now, Vegeta faced a real challenge, one that he had pondered on, subconsciously fearing the entire day- and that was how to please the woman with his damn tongue. She hadn’t asked him about the act upon his return, but he was sure as shit going to give it a try.

They had nearly stripped each other, the woman fully nude, he in only undergarments, and his heart hammered as he decided to place his lips on her left hip bones, tracing his teeth across her skin, knowing he was doing well when he got to her manicured mound and she had shivered at his inquisitive tongue tracing the area lightly. He knew he had truly found the prize, though, when he took that first lick of her bud and she had mewled, squirming and grabbing at his hair- he was thankful that he wasn’t so damn naïve to not know that it was the feminine sweet spot.

She had spread her legs wider for him as he settled in between them, and he had felt like a fucking idiot to have been nervous at all- in fact, he enjoyed himself quite thoroughly, relishing her taste, discovering her folds, wanting it to last longer when he had lapped her to trembling ecstasy, her fingers laced tightly within his hair as she climaxed for several moments. She had lost herself because of him, had shivered to completion simply from his tongue, and he just wanted _more_.

He climbed on top of the woman, his heart hammering when he thrust into her, his body on fire and his mind filled with nothing but her- his woman, his pleasure, his mate. _Her_.

-8-8-8-

In the months following, they shared their free evenings and her bed together, they got drunk together, they had made love often, discovering new positions and ways to pleasure one another, and she had used what little knowledge she had of cooking to make dinner nearly every evening. Bulma soon discovered that Vegeta had a voracious appetite ( _even to her less than desirable cooking_ ), and he had given her the money to buy copiuous amounts of expensive, fresh groceries- and especially meat.

All in all, Vegeta had warmed up to Bulma quickly- losing all of his nervous edge within a few weeks- but he had never bitten her as he had mentioned before, and had never even brought it up again after that first night.

Soon after she had spent a few evenings alone, Bulma had asked Vegeta about his work, and he had only grunted that ‘ _she didn’t want to know’_. However, Bulma had quickly figured it out when he would return late ( _or very early the next morning_ ) with blood on his person and a satiated look in his black killer’s eyes. He was killing people for money, and honestly, it didn’t surprise her at all. He had found work that he was good at- doing something he loved, for better or worse.

She didn’t have to approve of it, but she wouldn’t ( _and likely couldn’t_ ) stop him- his income paid their bills as she worked to pay off her debt to Cort, as well as save for the future- and whatever that would entail. And surprisingly, their living situation worked out very well, putting to rest her initial fear that they would be in each others way in the small quarters, that they would spat often or quickly get tired of one another- when in fact, it was entirely opposite.

He never complained, he seemed to always know when she wanted space, and he always cleaned up after himself. _Hell_ , he straightened up _after her_ , a shock considering she would have never pegged him for a clean freak.

And the best part of his cleaning escapades was that he did all of his tidying in secret while she worked- an act never failing to amuse her. A fucking mass murdering Saiyan soldier- a mercenary with a sea of blood on his hands was cleaning up her apartment like a chambermaid in covert solitude. It was endearing, in a very bizarre way.

And so, they went on with their lives, Vegeta avoiding Cort as much as possible ( _and buying him a new countertop_ ), Bulma ignoring the blood on the Saiyan’s clothes, and both of them spending as much time as possible together, knowing that their time with one another could end in the blink of an eye. It was a fact that they tried not to think about, but it lingered nonetheless.

-

His body was enveloped in pure adrenaline, his hands hot and sticky with deep blue blood, his teeth bared like a beast- and Vegeta, the Prince of what was left of the Saiyans, was in his fucking element. His own blood was hot, singing through his veins as he grabbed the pathetic gray alien’s shirt collar and slammed him up against the alley wall with a pleasant crack.

It wasn’t proud work, it was far below him in all honesty- but it was enjoyable enough, nonetheless.

“I told you! I told you I don’t know where it is! I swear to all my gods!” the creature screeched, grabbing Vegeta’s wrists desperately with his dull claws as the Saiyan held him pinned to the brick.

“Oh, you don’t know where it went? The shit that _you_ stole?” Vegeta barked, backhanding the gangly alien and causing him to collapse to the concrete below, “This doesn’t bode well for you, my client gave me the go-ahead to end your pathetic fucking life.”

Vegeta walked over to stand over top of the pitifully moaning alien, pressing his boot against the creature’s skinny, heaving chest before the scraggly being raised his unbroken arm up feebly. Vegeta watched him with cold eyes, waiting to hear what the sack of shit was going to say before he crushed his rib cage in.

“I sold it, sold it to Arigonil’iion Aexx, I sold the whole set to him!” The alien sputtered, three of his four pink eyes wide in pure horror while blood leaked from the sides of his mouth in rivulets of blue froth.

“Where is he…”

“I don…”

“WHERE IS HE?!” Vegeta roared, pressing the tip of his boot into the alien’s chest so hard that he heard a satisfying pop, resulting in a shriek of pain from the desperate creature.

“FUCK! _Gods_ , stop it! I don’t know! I don’t know where his base is! I sold it to one of his runners!”

Vegeta glared down silently, his foot still on the trembling creature as it gasped for air in fluid-filled breaths.

“Fine,” the Saiyan whispered, and the alien stared at him with the slightest glimmer of hope before Vegeta smirked, slamming his heel into the ribs of his victim, instantly turning his bones and vital organs into shattered pulp. Vegeta grinned wickedly as he pulled his boot from the ruined creature with a sucking sound that was immensely satisfying; he had no intentions of letting the fucker live, either way. He was hired as a mercenary; his client knew good and well where the set of alcheotic conductor crystals had gone as well as the name and general location of the unfortunate fool that had stolen them- Vegeta had only wanted to toy with his prey.

And to think, he had been wrapped up with his woman, gently holding her with his killer’s hands that morning as they made love. It never ceased to amaze him how he became a different person when he was with her…

Vegeta crouched down to fumble for the foul creature’s wallet, dumping the contents out onto the pavement, then rummaging through the various cards and papers under the pallid glow of the street light above. The alien didn’t have much, several interactive business cards, some location chips, his credits holocard (useless now that he was dead), and a rolled-up baggie of _gotchen_ \- a drug that could technically be sold for some decent credits.

He would likely just give it to Raditz, who would either buy it outright or sell it for Vegeta. The Saiyan prince wasn’t about to lower himself to slinging fucking _gotchen_ for credits _,_ no matter how much it paid. Raditz was a filthy third-class piece of shit and could deal with it, do it- overdose from it; Vegeta didn’t give a fuck as long as he got some money out of it.

He made a sour face as he thought about his idiot subordinates, they would be working as well- their power levels had easily gotten them jobs as bouncers contracted under Liis; Nappa at a high class nightclub, Raditz at some goddamn hole in the wall. How the _fine_ establishment that Raditz found himself in managed to pay Liis enough for a Saiyan warrior- even a lower class one- was somewhat a mystery. But it likely had nothing to do with what the bar paid him and everything to do with what Raditz made slinging under the table...

The dumbass was going to get caught sooner or later, though. Frieza territory didn’t tolerate drug dealing, not when the lizard bitch didn’t make a cut from it, and the punishment wasn’t just a slap on the wrist- and Liis couldn’t help Raditz after that. Raditz would be doing time in a cell made to restrict energy. He would waste away within the confines of darkness, sapped of vigor and life, wondering why in the fuck he had decided to sell that shit in the first place.

_Idiot._

Vegeta dreaded the thought of even seeing the dumbass after nearly a month without the aggravation, but oftentimes it was necessary to complete unsavory tasks. That was life.

-

Vegeta opened the door to _The Sloshed Scyanth_ and curled his lip disgustedly, the music was loud, and the place smelled like old smoke mingled in with cheap whores and piss. How Raditz could stand the stench alone for any amount of time was beyond him.

The Prince walked down the dark hall, turning to enter the bar when Raditz shouted at him from the corner of the entrance.

“Geets! Long time no see, come to get a drink?” Raditz grinned from a beat-up reclining chair, and Vegeta stared at the man with an incredulous darkness that shut the maned Saiyan up immediately. If their species' home planet still stood, the wild haired dipshit would be groveling at Vegeta's royal feet upon his entrance, probably weeping because the prince would even grace such low class scum with his near divine presence. Now, Raditz called him _Geets_ and didn't even bother to stand up for him. _Fantastic. S_ o much for his fucking birthright. _  
_

“Why the fuck are you in that stupid reclining chair… in a bar?”

“They let me use it, and it’s better than a stool. Don’t worry about it.” Raditz laughed, causing Vegeta to roll his eyes.

“Believe me, I’m _not_. Here, I’ve got some shit for you,” the Prince growled, reaching into his pocket and tossing the small, rolled up plastic baggie to Raditz, who caught it effortlessly.

“ _Ohoho_ this time you brought me the good stuff.”

“ _Gotchen_ , right?”

“Indeed,” Raditz answered distractedly, standing up to hold the green powder up to the dingy yellow light and grinning toothily.

“How much can I get for that?” Vegeta asked, crossing his arms as Raditz sat back in his dumb chair.

“I can give you forty-five credits for it.”

“ _Forty-five_?” Vegeta growled incredulously, wondering why in the fuck Raditz was lying to him so boldly. Surely it was worth more than forty-five pitiful credits…

“And that’s more than fair- markets down, there’s been an influx lately. I can hold on to it, I mean the price is gonna’ go back up.”

_Of course, the market would be down…_

“Whatever just transfer the credits,” Vegeta growled, pulling out his own holocard and forcefully handing it to Raditz. He felt like he could just beat the shit out of the hairy dumbass and take his credits anyway…

“ _Touchy,”_ the maned Saiyan quipped as he snapped his own chip into the end of Vegeta’s holocard, tapping the amount to be transferred on the holographic screen and pressing his thumb down for verification.

“Shut up.”

“Things that bad, Vegeta? Is the woman robbing you blind?” Raditz grinned, taking Vegeta off guard. What the hell was that supposed to mean? _Robbing him blind?_

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Vegeta announced out loud, snatching his holocard from Raditz as soon as it was detached.

“You seem desperate for credits, is all,” The maned Saiyan shrugged as he pulled a partially bent cigarette and lighter from his breast pocket.

“I’m not desperate for shit, and either it's not any of your business.”

“No, I guess it’s not,” Raditz shrugged, and Vegeta narrowed his eyes dangerously as Raditz lit his cigarette, making the newly formed cherry glow brightly in the dark corner he resided in. The taller Saiyan leaned back in the creaky chair once again, blowing up rings of smoke into the stale air as Vegeta’s tail flicked irritably.

“I’m going…”

“Wait up. Tell me, Vegeta, do you wish it could stay like this?” Raditz asked seriously, leaning forward once again on the arm of the busted recliner as Vegeta retorted.

“Like what?”

“Like us not going back to work for Frieza, just fucking…. never going back. Living like this forever, living free- and you, settling down with that woman...”

Vegeta’s heart sank as he thought about Bulma, about the bond they were building…about losing it all at any time. It was stupid, he should have never gotten so deep into a relationship with her...

“That can’t happen, not with us, we're property of Frieza.”

“I think it could happen if we stayed under the radar… got our identities flipped. It happens, I’m just saying…” Raditz trailed, seeming as if he were testing the waters with his words. Vegeta side eyed his subordinate, unsure of exactly what the other Saiyan was trying to tell him, where he was going with his bizarre ramblings.

“And how is selling drugs under the radar?”

“It’s not, I’ve got debts to pay first, that’s not the point.”

“Do you honestly think we can have our tracking chips scrambled without the military knowing right away? And not to mention the fact that we would have to change our ID cards, which is impossible.”

“It’s not impossible. Others have done it…”

“Just saying ‘ _others have done it’_ isn’t going to cut it for me, Raditz …”

“I know a guy who can do it. It’s not cheap, but it can be done. Ah…aha, actually, I’ve _already_ had mine scrambled...”

“What?!”

Vegeta’s stomach turned and he stared at Raditz as if the maned Saiyan had grown a second head; his heartrate picked up considerably as he tried to come up with words and failed. _How_? Bulma had talked about it before but had told him it was impossible to scramble his chip without alerting the military regulators immediately. How had Raditz had his chip wiped without immediately raising a flag, how had he gotten a new credit holocard, a new ID…?

“You look like you’ve just walked in on a Locradian fucking a Gorchik,” Raditz laughed, ashing his cigarette on the dingy floor. Vegeta swallowed, making eye contact with his subordinate once again.

“How?”

“It’s a long story, but it’s an ex-military alien that does it, he knows what it’s like being forced into serving the lizard fuck, offers the service to guys like us- scrambles the tracking chips, makes new ID’s, wipes your name from the military database. He stays way under the radar himself, and I would have never found him if it wasn’t through some contacts. _Friends_ , you know.”

Vegeta could hear Raditz’ words, but it was much harder to process the information. If he had his own chip scrambled, he could essentially be _free_ for the first time in his life. He could be with Bulma…they could get the fuck off Opalian and…

“How much?” Vegeta blurted, his tail flicking behind him as his nerves grew. This was not something to do on a whim…this was a big fucking deal. He could be killed…or worse if he was found out.

“Twenty thousand credits.”

Vegeta’s jaw nearly dropped, what in _the fuck_. How had Raditz accumulated that many credits in the few months they had been on Opalian?

“How the fuck did you make twenty thousand credits? You’re fucking shitting me.”

“I’ve sold a fuck-ton of _gotchen_ , got lucky gambling and made some risky decisions- but it all worked out for me and now I’m nearly free and clear. I’ve got to get enough money to pay off a loan…but I’ve got it. I’m good, I’m _free_.”

Vegeta stared at Raditz in silence, tuning out the horrible music in the background as his breath came in short spurts, his adrenaline pumping through his veins like a dizzying poison. Was Raditz truly free? Had he really gotten out of Frieza's clutches? Would anyone look for him? No one would even give a shit enough to look for a low-class warrior like Raditz, would they? But what about Vegeta…

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

“I wanted to wait and see if any negative shit would come of it; if I’d wake up to someone blasting my head into oblivion- but it never happened. It’s been just less than a month, and I haven’t even seen you in two months Veget…”

“This is impossible,” Vegeta interrupted, still unable to believe Raditz but hoping to all of his dead gods that his words were true.

“If you don’t believe me, check your holocard, look at the name that I transferred the credits under.”

Vegeta grabbed the holocard from his pocket once again, tapping at the tiny screen to pull up the past transactions- and the most recent one for forty-five credits was from an _Adit Barkodian_. _Fuck._

“I’m fucking _out,_ Vegeta. I can get you in contact with him… if you got the credits…”

Vegeta didn’t.

“I…I don’t know yet. I’ll have to get back to you,” Vegeta finally answered after what felt like a dazed eternity, and he stopped himself abruptly before he ran his filthy hands over his face. He had a lot to think about; twenty thousand credits was a _fuck-ton_ of money. How he was supposed to come up with the full amount, all in enough time that he wouldn’t be called back and forced to continue destroying worlds for pennies- was beyond him. But he needed to make it happen regardless, there was absolutely no question about that.

“You know where I am,” Raditz grinned, smashing his cigarette out on the wall and unraveling the plastic baggie, taking a good whiff of the _gotchen_ within. He visibly shivered, nearly foaming at the mouth for the shit as Vegeta turned away, too distracted to be disgusted.

“Yeah…” He trailed, making his way out of the repulsive bar, his mind buzzing with the positive what-ifs, as well as the negative scenarios that could play out. The information, along with the proof he had gotten were potential game changers, and he needed to tell Bulma.…

 _There was a way_ … gods, there was _finally_ a way to get out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY remembered to add this doodle I made of Cort, so y'all can see how beautiful he is (lol).  
> Here's a little bit about the cantankerous little bastard I've grown to love hehe- Cort waddles on flat ground because his species (Tarnelian) was adapted to live his life in the trees- rarely ever coming down from their homes in the canopies. They have short torsos and incredibly strong arms, legs, and prehensile tails (which will save them a potentially fatal fall by grabbing onto a branch if they lost balance). These evolutionary quirks made it difficult for Tarnelians to adapt when the survivors were displaced from their purged home planet (only a few hundred made it out alive), but Cort was an infant when his mother brought him to Akupier. He ended up apprenticing for a local mechanic as young man, hired to climb and work on taller structures that none of the other mechanics wanted to brave. To Cort, it was second nature. After a long time, Cort ended up saving up enough money to buy his own garage- in which he opened with Bulma. The garage doesn't have an official name, but is simply known as "Cort's". The garage is known far and wide througout Opalian for Cort's custom aerocar builds and Bulma's ability to fix nearly anything. Cort never found another female of his species on Opalian, and has lived a mostly solitary life outside of work.
> 
> PS: Indigo is finally coming to it's climax- two more chapters ought to do it. I want to thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story too :>
> 
> A big thank you also goes out to my beta reader/editor [ HannaBellLecter!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaBellLecter/pseuds/HannaBellLecter)


	8. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta become fugitives. Raditz takes Vegeta to the techie that can offer him freedom...

The arena was packed with aliens from uncountable species, all together to watch the biggest aerocar race of the year. It was a stupid event in Vegeta’s opinion, multiple altered aerocars going around in circles with the chance to wreck being the only exciting part of the whole ordeal. But it was a major credit earning event, and ultimately, who gave a fuck what he thought?

The temperature had dropped considerably toward the early autumn in Akuiper, and Vegeta had bundled up in a dark jacket, remaining hooded to help conceal his species. Saiyans were shunned the whole galaxy through and he needed to remain hidden from his target...

The man he was after was a _wrencher_ , a nasty position that Bulma had dabbled in the past, and the bastard was ordered to be taken out by a high paying client. The client had no definitive proof on the guy, and so the law wouldn’t get involved, but Vegeta didn’t give a shit if he was guilty or not. He was getting paid top dollar for a public kill that would send a message to any other fool that wrenching wasn’t going to be tolerated.

Vegeta scanned the crowd, pacing through the masses and watching for his man. He was a _Vataron_ , a relatively noticeable creature with bright green and yellow scales, and this particular one was said to have a large scar on his right cheek and a tattoo of some sort of religious significance covering his tail. Vegeta had committed the image to memory but didn’t give a shit about it otherwise.

The Saiyan walked with his arms crossed tightly on the third level of the quaking, overcrowded arena where he thought he saw the target from afar. He was looking forward to the job being over, he was irritated by the stinking aliens and the mass of people acting like fools over some godsdamned cars- idiots, all them. Gods how he hated people…he would be fine living far away from anyone, on the edge of the galaxy in a ship…with Bulma of course. Although she could be a handful at times…

_Bulma._

Vegeta stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening when he suddenly spotted the tiniest flash of teal in the sea of aliens. The Saiyan's stomach sank immediately when he saw her hair peeking out from under her hat, and indigo stained hands poking out from the long sleeves of a shabby green jacket.

Why in the fuck was Bulma here? _Why_ , in the name of all the gods, hadn’t she told him she was going to be at the event? His stomach sank when he realized she was probably here for the same reason the man he was sent to kill was… she was _wrenching._

To be fair to her, Vegeta hadn’t told Bulma about _his_ job- but damn it, she should have told him about hers. She could be in grave danger, they both could be- but at least he could have been fucking looking out for her, ready to get her the fuck out of dodge and kill a swath of assholes if anyone caught on to her. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

And she was doing this all for him, damn it. She was risking her ass so that he could break free from his captor…

-

Vegeta had hesitated to tell Bulma what he had learned from Raditz, about the potential for freedom, to be rid of the bastard Frieza once and for all- and when he had, she was justifiably skeptical. She had searched, poked through her resources, finally had gotten in touch with some of her shadier contacts- and she had finally found the man.

The mystery techie was an ex-soldier and had been much like Vegeta in that he wasn’t at all a willing recruit. He had been forced into servitude, not a prince, but a pawn nonetheless- his peoples vessel of their god. After his planet ultimately met the same fate as Vegeta’s, the boy had been forced into serving the tech force, creating new technology for Frieza’s army, never able to live a life of his own- and so he had to disappear to find freedom.

Bulma wasn’t sure at all the way that he had done it, but the mystery techie had successfully removed himself from the empire’s system, had declared himself dead and had taken on a new identity; he had been doing the same for other wayward soldiers looking for a way out for over a year.

He charged a small fortune, but Bulma hadn’t balked on the price. She had said that it was dangerous work, and a service that only he could provide- plus the mystery techie needed backup money if he ever needed to get the fuck off Akuiper in a hurry.

And so, after finding out there was a way to get Vegeta wiped from the system, Bulma had been single-minded in her pursuit of credits. She had dedicated all her savings despite Vegeta’s vehement protests, and when he had argued with her about it she had told him frankly that she didn’t want to lose her mate.

It had pissed him off, but it had shut him up because ultimately, he sure as shit didn’t want to lose her either.

He had grown fonder of Bulma in the six months that he had lived with her than he could have ever imagined. Love was a goddamn stupid concept, one that he would deny out loud until the day he died, but if it was a real thing, he felt it for the woman. He knew that what he felt for her transcended anything rational and it was entirely pathetic- so it must have been the real fucking deal.

And now, he watched her tapping her leg nervously, waiting for the race to start- all so she could make two or three thousand credits. It wasn’t at all worth the risk of being caught and he needed to get her the fuck out of the arena. He didn’t give a shit if he lost his target; he didn’t care about that, he could blow up the whole goddamn planet and kill the target, client and every man woman and child on Opalian if need be- but he needed to get the only being that ever had, or ever would ever matter to him, out of the arena. The smoother the exit, the better… they didn’t need Frieza getting suspicious about any of it.

-

Bulma’s heart raced as she tapped her fingers against the metal of her artificial leg, her breath coming out in plumes as she watched the racers make their way to their marks, flashing their lights and blaring their sound systems as the crowd cheered and booed depending on their champions. It was a bellowing cacophony, the kind of energetic noise that could only be experienced in massive gathering of people, and it made her feel like the least noticeable creature there. Surely, with the thousands and thousands of people in the arena, security would never single her out as the one with the scrambler. They would never notice as she tuned the frequency to the car she was meant to wrench- they would _never_ catch her- and she would make a good chunk of change to add to their growing stockpile of credits.

She sighed, knowing that Vegeta would be furious with her if he had known she was doing this. He was working though, and would never even know she had left the garage- he would come home, and she would flash her chip in front of his face, grinning as he growled at her- pissed, _so damned pissed_. He had told her not to do anything like this, but how else was she going to make this many credits in just one night?

She wasn’t any other way, so shit like this had to be done. And the best part was, is that she had been offered _five thousand credits_ for this single event.

Bulma rummaged around in her purse for her scrambler, taking off the protective foil that had concealed it from the scanners at the gates, and she turned the device on, calibrating the buttons and knobs, watching the screen clarify and focus on the frequency that she had been given by the client.

_A189##876510 Calibrated_

The message flashed across the small screen and Bulma grinned, pushing the scrambler back down into the foil, and she waited for the race to start before she fucked car number eight right up. After that all she needed to do was _not_ get caught...

 -

Vegeta glared at the woman, watching her intently, knowing that he needed to stop her fucking nonsense before she ended up making this entire process much more difficult. She wasn’t an idiot, so why had she taken this job? Didn’t she know that there was extra security, continuously scanning for criminal activity? He knew that _she knew_ , and he was pissed that she didn’t care.

Vegeta exhaled, his breath coming out in vapor, and he began to make his way down the stone bleachers, calmly, steadily as the crowd roared for the start of the race. All he needed to do was stop her, make her go home- then find the target. It didn’t matter if the fucker had already started his hack, all Vegeta needed to do was make an example of him…

Vegeta suddenly stalled his descent, immediately noticing two security guards on the move in the section below. They were either onto his target, who was likely somewhere in the general vicinity- or they were after Bulma. The first scenario he could live with, the second, he most certainly couldn’t. And if they took her into custody, there was nothing he could do aside from blowing up half the stadium to retrieve her. And it was something he might just have to do anyway…

“Godsdamn it, Bulma,” he murmured to himself through grit teeth, his voice drowned out by the cacophony of the crowd as he watched in growing panic as the two security guards separated, one going to the left of Bulma’s aisle, the other to the right. They hadn’t been after his target, unfortunately- they had been after Bulma.

He watched as if the scene played out in slow motion, picking up his pace as they seemed to move quicker, and it was at that point he knew he was going to have to reveal his true power. This wasn’t going to go smoothly at all…

-

Bulma gasped when a bulky, sallow hand grabbed hold of her arm, and she stared up in shock at the puffy, many-eyed face of the security guard who demanded that she stand, pulling at her aggressively as another alien guard came up behind her.

She panicked, reason tossed to the wind as she tried to elbow the man, and her heart pounded as adrenaline coursed through her veins- she had to get away. She couldn’t be caught- she would be jailed forever- or sold as a tech thrall. Her panic escalated when the sallow guard slapped her across the face, and the skinny guard behind thrust his hand into her purse, pulling out the foil and then exposing the scrambler, holding it for all around to see.

“Fucking wrencher, ruining our races!” The sallow guard gurgled, squeezing Bulma’s arm and making her cry out in pain. This was a mistake…this was so stupid, what was she thinking?

 “Stupid bitch!”

“Go lock her up!”

 _Shit_...

Bulma heard the booing and slurs from the crowd, but she didn’t care. The only thing she could think of was _escape_ , and she wished that Vegeta was there…she didn’t believe in a god, but she didn’t hesitate to throw out a little prayer to the cosmos as she struggled against the two guards when they began dragging her past the booing, spitting spectators.

Her eyes filled with tears as she was knocked in the ribs by a bottle and she gasped at the searing pain, wondering if a bone had been broken. Things were most certainly not going to go well, and she squeezed her watering eyes tightly, knowing she would be lucky to get out of the stadium alive…. she prayed that somehow Vegeta would know where to find her when she was booked…

Bulma’s eyes suddenly flew open in shock when she felt stinking hot liquid splash onto the side of her face, and she yelped as the sallow alien gurgled in pain, half of his face a sickening, green and yellow hole. Bulma started to gag when she was lifted up and tossed over a man’s shoulder, and she stared down in horror at the running, viscous ruin of the sallow alien, convulsing violently as he died in the narrow walkway.

The spectators which had been booing and prodding Bulma before had begun scurrying away, screaming and falling over themselves as they tried to escape the violence, and she glanced over her dark horse’s shoulder, wide-eyed as he used his internal energy to blow a hole through the skinny guard’s head as well.  Chunks of viscera went flying over the emptying benches, and she knew she had never seen anything so disgusting in all her life- but she sure as hell wasn’t complaining. In fact, her heart felt fuller than she had ever known it could, and her hope rose sky high when she grabbed her savior around the neck and buried her face into his wild shock of hair.

 _Vegeta_.

“How did you know I was here?” Bulma shouted to Vegeta as she clung to him desperately, and he only growled at her, lifting her up and moving at a speed that she wasn’t quite comfortable with as he carried her to the exit. She knew that _he knew_ there was an invisible energy inhibiting barrier up around the arena to keep powerful folks such as himself from dropping in to start trouble (or not pay), and so he kept to the stadium. The masses scrambled to get out of his way as he threatened them with an open, glowing hand, ready to strike anyone who challenged him- and none did until he approached the exit.

Bulma startled when her Saiyan stopped in his tracks, sitting her down roughly to her feet. She landed unsteadily, falling on her rear and struggling to get a grip on her bearings when Vegeta started exuding an energy that she had never felt come off from him before. It was a frightening, mind-numbing power that shot out of his body in waves, and she hunkered down.

“Get back,” he barked at her, and she obeyed, scurrying backwards and away from him as he stared down the two massive guards that protected the gate. They didn’t look like ordinary men, and Bulma wondered if they weren’t going to be so easy to dominate as the last two guards…

-

Vegeta powered up to a level he hadn’t been at in a long time, energy radiated from his form in a white-hot glow. _Damn_ , his body felt absolutely fantastic as he took a stance against the two dumbasses in front of him. He was pissed, he was aggressive, he was desperate to get his woman to safety. _Stupid woman, godsdamn it… she knew better._

“If you two pieces of shit value your pathetic lives, you’ll get out of my fucking way,” Vegeta barked at them, and the two aliens grinned at each other, nearly bursting out in laughter before Vegeta bared his teeth and contorted his hands, splaying his legs and letting his energy gather into a ball in his hands.

“I’m not fucking kidding you, you morons, get out of my godsdamn way or you’ll be nothing but a shitstain on the pavement.”

Normally he wouldn’t give them any warning, he would have just blown their fucking heads off- but the least amount of havoc he created, the better chances they would have of escaping…

“Little man, I’ve dealt with your kind before, you don’t stand a cha…”

The large guard stopped dead in his tracks, watching as Vegeta turned his body without looking back and shooting a blast of purple energy behind his back at the several guards which had come up behind him, trying to sneak up on the Saiyan like a pack of dipshits. All of the spectators that hadn’t been caught in the deafening blast ran from the entrance, tripping over one another, screaming like dumbasses as Bulma cried out and covered her head with her hands. So much for keeping the damage to a minimum…

“Get out of my way, you godsdamn cunts!” Vegeta growled, shooting another blast at the two guards that stood in his way, and one went down screaming, his scaly skin melting from the white hot blast, while the other scrambled out of the way awkwardly- probably shitting himself in the process. At this point, Vegeta had done enough irreparable damage that he might as well go down with a bang. The night wasn’t even fucking over yet…

“Come on,” he snapped at Bulma, and she immediately obeyed, jumping to her feet and running behind the Saiyan as they made their way out of the gate and into the empty street. Vegeta glanced around for other adversaries, feeling blind without his scouter, but he couldn’t stall any longer- he needed to move, to get Bulma out of the damn area and make his way to Raditz.

They had half of the money they needed for the asshole that could erase him from the system- and it was going to have to fucking be enough, because after that spectacle they were going to have to get the fuck out of Akuiper, and the sooner the better.

-

“Yeahhh, sounds like you need to move out ASAP. Authorities are going to be combing the city for both of you now. Once they find out it’s you, Vegeta, Frieza’s gonna’ get word. It’s not going to end well for either of you.”

“We’re well aware of that, Raditz. Is the guy in? You’re sure he can wipe my chip tonight?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s in…” Raditz trailed, stroking the end of his hair in contemplation before continuing, “So where are we gonna go after this? We sure as shit can’t stay…”

“We’re going to Earth,” Bulma stated matter of factly, irritating Vegeta even more.

“How the fuck are we going to get there? You don’t have maps…”

“We’ll find it. I’ll…we can try to retrace the path that my father and I originally traveled…”

“So, this Earth, it’s full of hot women like you, yeah?” Raditz interrupted, taking a long drag off his cigarette as he grinned at Bulma. She made a face at him, retorting sarcastically.

“Yeah, it’s just one big planet full of women. And that’s it, too, _only_ super attractive women with nothing else on their mind but being abducted by a big, hairy Saiyan.”

“I mean, I’d be okay with that,” Raditz grinned, and Bulma rolled her eyes as Vegeta handed her his credit chip, ignoring them both.

“Transfer your credits to me, _all of them_. Cort’s going to have to suck it up because now you’re a fugitive, you got that? Doesn’t matter what you owe him anymore,” Vegeta growled at Bulma, and she gave him an irritated look, half her face and part of her jacket still covered in dried alien blood.

“How is it that you can kill a man, and no one blinks an eye, but I get paid to rig a stupid game and its prison for life…”

Vegeta rolled his eyes, getting ready to retort when Raditz spoke up from his reclining chair.

“Because its Akuiper, nothing sacred here but money, honey,” Raditz shrugged, ashing his cigarette as Bulma looked over at him and sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she mumbled, pressing her card into Vegeta’s and tapping at the screen, “this place, the people here- they only care about credits.

“Like that everywhere in the universe,” Raditz replied, and Vegeta flicked his tail in annoyance. Too much damn chatter, this was too serious of a situation for such idle nonsense…

Vegeta watched Bulma silently as she transferred her credits, and he snapped his fingers at Raditz.

“Get up,” he barked, and the maned Saiyan immediately stood and took his place at his Prince’s side. At least the asshole knew when things were serious…

“Just letting you know, Vegeta, things might get messy… Amerlin has some tough guys…”

“I don’t give a shit- you called Nappa?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s on his way…”

“Good. As soon as he gets here, were out.”

-

Raditz led his Prince, Nappa, and Bulma to a hole in the wall bar on the outskirts of Akuiper. The bars downtown could be shitty enough, but this place was a fucking dump, to say the least. Bulma was skeptical that it even had a connection to the net, much less be the hideout of a tech genius that could override the system and make her lover disappear from the grid forever.

“Is this seriously the place?” Bulma asked quietly, and Raditz nodded his maned head.

“Yeah, it looks like a piece of shit, but wait til’ you go downstairs…”

“She’s not going downstairs, she’s staying with Nappa and they’re going to go fetch her scouter. I’ll not have her used against us here,” Vegeta snapped, causing Bulma to groan. She was walking on eggshells, since technically, this was all her fault- but damn, she desperately wanted to see the workspace of this notorious Amerlin…

“I’ve got to see this place, I want to know how he did it, see the technology…”

“Woman, this isn’t the damned time. He’s not just going to give you the grand tour after we fucking hand him half of his asking price and then threaten to blow his godsdamn establishment all to hell if he doesn’t help me…”

Vegeta had a point. Bulma was the smart one, but she was by far the weakest link. The Saiyans had more power in their pinky fingers than she had in her whole body…

“Alright, alright. Just be… careful,” Bulma said earnestly, grabbing onto Vegeta’s arm, wanting to embrace him as he narrowed his eyes at her, his face turning crimson under the pale streetlamps. The Prince pulled away from her, embarrassed, despite the situation. _Oh… how cute._

He was embarrassed that she was showing him affection in front of his men, and she gave him a lopsided smile, wanting to hug him- wanting to give him a big kiss before he went in and risked his life for her stupid folly… Damn. _What was she thinking_?

Bulma immediately felt the overwhelming weight of the situation that she had put them all in, and she was embarrassed of herself, as well as upset that he really wasn’t going to let her embrace him.

“Be careful in there…” Bulma trailed as Vegeta looked away from her, turning to the other two Saiyans and wrapping his tail tightly around his waist.

“We’re going in. Nappa you take her to her apartment, get that scouter and get the fuck out- if the authorities are already there searching for her, just leave. If anything goes south, Nappa… you get her off Akuiper and make sure she’s okay. Get her on a ship, steal whatever you have to, I don’t care. Just… get her off this planet…” Vegeta trailed, staring up at the hulking Saiyan with a hard-eyed desperation that she had never seen him show before.

“Got it, she’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Vegeta,” Nappa answered reassuringly, nodding at his Prince as Vegeta snapped his fingers and got Raditz’ attention.

“Let’s go,” he barked, giving Bulma one last glance before turning, heading toward the dilapidated building across the street.

-

Vegeta made a face as they entered the bar, it was a convincing cover- since the place had all the wretched smells that he associated with such establishments. Piss, smoke and filth. The few patrons didn’t even look up from their stupor as the Saiyans entered, and the bartender only gave them a knowing nod. The haggard bitch must have already been tipped off to their arrival.

“This way,” Raditz mumbled, leading the way down the dark, narrow hall and down a set of rickety stairs which led to a storage room. The place was dank, rotten smelling- and Vegeta was nearly afraid that the wooden floor would fall out from under them as Raditz took him to a single door toward the back of the area. The maned Saiyan knocked once, prompting a voice on the other side.

“We’re not in need of any kegs tonight,”

“You mean I brought twenty for no reason?” Raditz grinned slightly as Vegeta rolled his eyes. What a fucking dumb password…

The sound of electronic locks unhinging carried through the door, and it finally swung open to reveal a tiny purple creature, a delicate alien no taller than three feet, wearing casual clothing and carrying a holstered gamma pistol on his hip. Vegeta made a face, wondering if this was the mysterious man he had heard so much about when he was led into a narrow hallway making way to a surprisingly large room.

Raditz wasn’t shitting him, the operation was legitimate.

The room was sterile white, bogged in machines on every wall. Lights blinked, and screens flashed, and the humming sound of many machines filled his ears as they walked to the center of the room. Vegeta looked to each corner, noticing a lithe man to his left, and a formidable alien to his right. They stood silently, arms crossed, and faces set in stone as a small purple skinned creature with twitching antennae, the same species as the one who answered the door, came forward from a desk.

“Welcome again Raditz, I assume you’re quite impressed with your identity change to refer such a high-profile customer! I really should have asked more from the likes of the Saiyan Prince,” the alien grinned, and Raditz agreed, patting Vegeta’s shoulder to the Prince’s chagrin.

“This is the very one.”

“I’m Amerlin Boose, and you… you’re  Vegeta, am I correct?” the alien smiled, revealing surprisingly sharp teeth as he waved the Saiyans over to a large machine. Vegeta didn’t care much for the way his name sounded on the tiny aliens tongue, but he nodded, his heart beating a bit too fast. He couldn’t tell much about the guards, but he wasn’t stupid. A man with an operation like this didn’t hire weaklings. They were likely ex-military as well, and he likely had another few hiding in the rafters, so to speak.

This wouldn’t be easy.

“I was informed that you have the twenty thousand credits for the service?” Amerlin questioned, motioning for Vegeta to hand him his credit chip. Vegeta took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he pulled the card from his pocket- holding it just over the creature’s grasp.

“I have half,” he stated, not taking his eyes off the small man before him. Amerlin’s eyes widened momentarily, his antennae pinning back on against his bald head as he glanced to his men before giving Vegeta another, less civil smile.

“Raditz has misinformed me, then. He was well aware of the…”

“You can either take the credits, or we can keep them- the fact remains that you will scramble my chip tonight. I don’t have time to fuck around.”

“Raditz, how many credits…”

“I got less than two hundred and you ain’t getting’ them from me,” Raditz retorted, stiffening slightly before Amerlin shook his head.

“Nevermind, that amount is not even worth my time,” Amerlin sighed, narrowing his solid black eyes at the Saiyans, obviously weighing his options as he grabbed the credit chip. He could take what credits they had and be done with it, or he could sic his men on the Saiyans and risk them, his underground lab, and his life. Vegeta hoped that the creature was as intelligent in this matter as he was in technology.

“This is bad business, you know, Are you all in trouble?” Amerlin hissed, checking Vegeta’s credit balance with a scowl, and the Prince eased slightly. The alien was dumb enough to let them into his lab without proof of the credits beforehand, but at least he wasn’t dumb enough to risk a full out battle in his lair. He knew the reputation of the Saiyans- knew the reputation of the _Prince. As he should._

“No trouble, he’s been summoned back to work and he wan’t to be done with that life,” Raditz answered without missing a fucking beat. He had to give the dumbass some credit for that…

“Follow me _Prince_.”

“ _Tch_ ,” Vegeta mumbled irritably at the sardonic use of title, and he followed far behind as Amerlin made his way to a large, open machine on a pedestal, flipping switches on before he motioned to Vegeta to enter. Vegeta hesitated, glancing back at Raditz, and the bigger Saiyan nodded at him, letting him know this was the standard procedure.

“This is the scrambler,” Amerlin spoke dryly, his eyes narrowed as Vegeta stood in front of the towering technology. He wasn’t keen on the idea of stepping into the thing, but he at least trusted Raditz enough to go on with the process.

“Go on monkey, step up onto the pedestal!” Amerlin demanded without explanation, and Vegeta reluctantly obeyed, stepping up onto the base and nearly holding his breath as Amerlin pressed a button. Vegeta had no idea what to expect, feared the process would weaken him somehow, was terrified it was a trap- until he heard an odd, magnetic clang, and the machine beeped before powering back down. He glanced over at Amerlin, his brows knitted confusedly as the alien shrugged.

“Not what you were expecting?” Amerlin grinned slightly, again motioning for Vegeta to follow as he made his way over to Raditz. The small alien grabbed a narrow handheld control from his standalone work area and held it up to Vegeta.

“The chip is in your left arm, I’m sure that if you had known that you would have tried to dig it out years ago- which would have been a bad idea since its deep within the muscle tissue, but, I digress- I’m going to scan it to show you that it’s been scrambled and reissued.”

Vegeta watched warily as Amerlin waved the device over his arm, and the screen displayed an entirely different name and identification number. He was free _…_

_Gods…he was finally free._

“You are now Rubra Pa’aath.”

Vegeta made a face, surprised that they had given him a Saiyan name (along with some alien gibberish), but he wasn’t going to question it. It didn’t matter now.

“Your chip is scrambled, which is half of the process. The other half is wiping your information from the system and creating a new identity for you. While I _am_ going to do that, so that I can safely transfer your credits- I am _not_ going to issue you a new ID or card. Not until you come up with the other ten thousand credits- payable to me on Raditz’ card.”

Vegeta glared up at Raditz, stifling a grin before nodding to Amerlin. Lucky for Vegeta, he wouldn’t be needing his card- not where he was going. Earth, according to Bulma, didn’t have a credits system- his ID would be useless there as well. All the Earthling money was internal- based on something called… _countries_. Or something like that.

All he needed was the chip scrambled so that he couldn’t be traced... and it had been done.

“Fine…whatever- I’ll use Raditz’ card- that makes it a real pain in the ass,” Vegeta scoffed, secretly gleeful with the turn of events… things could have gone much worse. He wasn’t keen on having to fight in the confined space, wasn’t keen on stirring shit up even more and risking his life- _risking Bulma’s life_. At this point, it was best to keep his head down, get off of Opalian and forward to Earth- wherever the fuck that might be.

“Damn right it’s going to be a fucking pain in the ass,” Raditz mumbled, rolling his eyes just a little too hard; but he was good at the game. The maned Saiyan knew as well as Vegeta did that they were getting the fuck off planet and would never step foot on Opalian again. Amerlin was never getting his money.

And Vegeta was finally _free._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you also goes out to my editor [ HannaBellLecter!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaBellLecter/pseuds/HannaBellLecter)
> 
> Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! It's quite a bit different from the rest, but the catalyst the story needed to move forward. I think you all will really enjoy the next chapter ;)


	9. Doorways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma step from one threshold to another. A world awaits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I logged in and realized that July was the last update, _wow_.  
>  For those of you that have stuck around, thank you so much! I'm so sorry it's been so long and I hope you enjoy the last chapter of Indigo <3

The room was silent, dark and just as comfortable as she had left it only hours before. Bulma choked back tears as she stepped into her apartment, not daring to flip on the lights just in case someone was watching her from a higher vantage point outside of her window. She pulled an empty tote from her closet and rummaged through a pile of clean clothes, shoving random underwear, pants, and shirts into the bottom of the generous bag before making her way hurriedly to her shelf – adding a few items of trade value as well as sentimental crap she had salvaged from the shipwreck.

Bulma stood from the shelf and grabbed her gaudy pink scouter from her workbench, placing it gingerly on top of the items in her growing tote bag. It was the key. She took a deep breath as she picked up a pen and scribbled on a mostly used pad of paper.

_Cort-_

_I’m sure you know by now I was caught wrenching at the race and that Vegeta saved me. We had to escape the planet, and I’m so sorry I won’t be able to pay you back. I hope that business goes well, I’ll miss you ‘Alien Dad’._

_Love, Bulma_

Bulma tore the paper from the pad, tears threatening to fall as she opened her apartment door and stalled only a moment. She took a deep breath, steeling her heart for the unknowns that the night would inevitably bring, and she wiped away the pooling moisture from her eyes with the sleeves of her jacket.

There was no time for tears.

-

“Alright, so far so good. They either haven’t figured out your face scan yet or they think you aren’t dumb enough to come back here,” Nappa grinned, still holding the outside door open and patrolling as Bulma shrugged comically, folding the note up and placing it on the stack of invoices where Cort would surely see it.  She could only hope he wouldn’t be mad or face any repercussions for being associated with Bulma – the new outlaw in town.

“Thankfully they didn’t get a scan on my card, that could have made things much worse,” Bulma murmured, thinking about how she would have had to ditch her ID chip if they had gotten a scan on it. She didn’t have many credits left on _,_ but it would be very difficult to enter and exit ports or buy and sell anything at all without it. Bulma stood and looked at her surroundings, the dirty, unkempt place, and she took a deep breath before crossing over the threshold to the outside world. She was knew without a doubt that she would never step foot in the garage ever again. It was bittersweet.

She didn’t love her job, but she had made a life there over the years, had made friends in Akuiper, and of course, there was Cort. She would really miss the cantankerous, old bastard.

“Right, well, we need to head out. Who knows how many men they have out looking…” Nappa trailed, immediately wrapping his tail around his waist and holding one oversized hand up to Bulma, stopping her in her tracks.

Bulma’s eyes widened as she looked around anxiously, trying to pick up sounds or sirens, something that had alerted the Saiyan. Her human senses could pick up nothing out of the ordinary, but that didn’t mean a thing…

“What’s going on, what do you hear?”

Nappa didn’t respond to her but narrowed his eyes, immediately turning to face a man in black enforcement armor that jumped out from the dark edge of the building with his gun pointed directly at Nappa.

“Step away from the woman and nothing will happen to you,” the enforcer asserted behind a dark visor, causing Nappa to laugh out loud. Bulma hadn’t ever seen a Saiyan in true battle fashion until earlier in the night, so she assumed that Nappa would have no issue with one single officer… as long as there weren’t more. She cursed herself for forgetting her prod, wondering why in the fuck she hadn’t thought to grab it before closing the door behind her.

“Back down!”

“Not a damn chance,” Nappa growled, moving at an unfathomable speed as Bulma pressed herself flat against the closed door. She watched in subdued horror as Nappa grabbed the much smaller assailant’s arm, twisting his wrist and causing him to drop his pistol as the Saiyan held one meaty hand over the man’s exposed mouth, effectively silencing him.

“Let him go!” a scratchy voice shouted from the darkness, and two more alien officers came running out from the corner of the building, their guns trained on Nappa. Bulma’s heart raced wildly as the Saiyan grinned wickedly, his heavily shadowed face looking particularly evil under the sickly glow from the light above the door. _Shit_. Two on one without a weapon was not the ideal scenario, but at least Nappa had a positive demeanor _and_ a hostage…

Bulma nearly screamed when Nappa suddenly snapped the captive officer’s neck as easily as snapping a pencil, and the two other officers immediately assailed him, one shooting and barely missing and the other hitting him square in the chest with a plasma beam. Bulma gasped, but Nappa didn’t make a sound as he moved imperceptibly, grabbing the two men at the same time and smashing their heads together so hard that their helmets busted into pieces.

The two alien men fell to the ground in crumpled piles, their skulls smashed open and their blood quickly pooling around their heads in an inky puddle. Bulma felt queasy, shaky with adrenaline as she processed what had just happened – three officers were dead and _Nappa had been shot._ _Oh god._

“You dumb bastards didn’t have a chance,” Nappa growled at the dead men before inspecting the place where he had been shot, sticking a finger through the dark fabric irritably as Bulma ran up to him.

“Shit, Nappa! Are you okay?” Bulma asked, her nerves completely shot as he chuckled.

“Barely a place there, just fucked up my shirt.”

Bulma raised one eyebrow at him, exhaling deeply as he grabbed a pistol off the concrete, and she couldn’t help but wonder just how resilient the Saiyans truly were…

“Take this, you might just need it,” Nappa said casually, shoving the gun into Bulma’s reluctant hands before motioning for her to follow him. “We’ve got to get to the docks on the north side of town, Raditz says he has a ship, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“He better have a fucking ship,” Bulma hissed, her jittery hands holding the gun awkwardly at her side as she followed the enormous Saiyan across the pavement and into yellow street lights.

“You’ll be lucky if the thing is worthy of interstellar travel,” Nappa mumbled, turning to Bulma as she struggled to keep up. She sighed dramatically, thinking about what sort of ship Raditz would have, terrified that it would be a piece of junk that wouldn’t even get them off the planet…

-

“How the fuck did you manage this?” Vegeta marveled, both pissed and fascinated that Raditz had somehow procured a decent star cruiser – one far out of his spending bracket.

“Gambling.”

“What did you even have to wager?” Vegeta asked, running his hand over the smooth grey paint as he examined the streamlined ship.

“Drugs.”

 _Of course_. Fucking idiot, if Raditz hadn’t been so lucky during his stint in Akuiper he would have been so deep in shit that he would have never gotten the stink out.

“And why, pray tell, didn’t you sell this godsdamn thing and give me the credits?”

“I wasn’t going to sell my cruiser for you!”

“I’m your prince, you treacherous fuck! You knew I was trying to save…”

“You’re joking, right?” Raditz asked incredulously, and Vegeta rolled his eyes. He _was_ joking… partially. _Not really._

“What were you planning to do with a star cruiser?”

“Have it as backup in case I- _we_ , needed to get the fuck out of dodge,” Raditz mumbled around his cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag before slapping the side of the ship with a grin. It was surprisingly a smart plan, although Vegeta would have never admitted it.

“Do you know how to fly it?”

“So many questions!”

“Well?”

“I can fly it good enough.”

Vegeta curled his lip – it would have to do. Bulma may be able to fly it if the idiot couldn’t, he remembered her telling of stories from her youth, of piloting ships from a very young age.

“And… rooms?”

“One, but I got you, my Prince. I’ll sleep in the lounge and let you and the lady have the room,” Raditz winked, leaning back on his cruiser and ashing his cigarette as Vegeta looked up at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Raditz grinned, but Vegeta could tell it was strained. He could always put fear into the idiot, and as long as he lived it would never change.

“Fine, you know I’d have the room anyway,” Vegeta finally answered, taking a deep breath of the cold night air as he folded his arms and glanced around the docks. He was getting anxious, wishing that he had told Bulma to wait outside for him, although there was no way to know how the deal with Amerlin was going to go down. It could have been just as dangerous for her there as well, but he felt like he had abandoned her when she had gone back to her place for the scouter.

It was an important thing to have, something completely necessary for the trip ahead – but he shouldn’t have let her go without him. Shouldn’t have simply just trusted Nappa, what if they were surrounded? What if they had been apprehended at the garage?

“I’m going to go out looking for her, I can’t sit here and wait,” Vegeta finally spoke up, his breath coming out in plumes as Raditz shook his head.

“That’s not the plan, Prince. If you go and she gets here with the cops chasing her, we’ll have to go – with or without you. Then I get the girl, right?”

Raditz laughed flippantly as Vegeta narrowed his eyes dangerously. He was pissed that Raditz would make such a bold proclamation, but he also knew that the moron was right about sticking to the plan. Fucking with said plan could ruin everything, plus his face would have been scanned in the arena, making him a target for the authorities as well. He _did_ kill a few people…

“Fine. Fuck this, I _hate_ this,” Vegeta growled, tapping his fingers against his bicep as he waited, becoming more and more impatient with every moment that Bulma wasn’t there.

-

They had been walking for what seemed like an eternity when Nappa spoke up, startling Bulma slightly as she shifted the awkward bag from one shoulder to the other and narrowly avoided a filthy puddle.

“You’re a weak woman…” Nappa trailed, glancing back at Bulma in the dim street light as she raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not _that_ weak, give me a break! This bag is just really heavy.”

“Our women were strong, many were capable warriors that had no problem carrying their own stuff,” Nappa said in a lighthearted tone, motioning for her to hand the tote over. Bulma gladly handed her oversized bag to the Saiyan, too grateful to be rid of her burden to be irritated by the man’s words.

“Well, I’m no warrior, but I can whip up a mean mechanical leg,” Bulma said sarcastically as they turned the corner onto the next dim lane. They were lucky that most of the city was at the fateful race, leaving the streets mostly dead, but she knew Nappa was sticking to the least populated alleyways as to try and avoid the authorities. He didn’t look very bright, but she figured that he was likely a bit more intelligent than she had first taken him for.

“You have smarts, that’s why the Prince found a mate in you,” Nappa murmured, stopping at the end of the alley and assessing the more congested street before deeming it safe and motioning for Bulma to cross with him.

“Well he doesn’t say much about that, I’ve tried to pry it out of him, but he won’t budge on a lot of things associated with the uh, _relationship_.”

“He won’t. He’s… _gods_ , he’s always been strange about women.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I didn’t know if the Prince would ever take up with a woman, was honestly shocked when I found out about him n’ you. But you – he’s fierce over you. I pretty much raised him form a pup and I haven’t seen him like he is now. He’s never seemed happy, not unless he was killing a buncha’ aliens, but he seems… I dunno, content for the first time.”

Bulma smiled to herself as Nappa guided them into another reeking alley, and despite the severity of their situation, she felt giddy. Like a silly, lovesick schoolgirl that just found out her crush was smitten with her as well. It was a trivial thing, ridiculous really, but it was _something_ to cherish.

Bulma was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice the sound behind her, the sound of boots, many pairs of feet following them with stealth, she might have just run into the authorities surrounding them at the end of the alley… but Nappa knew well before they could close in. Before she could get a grip on what was happening, Bulma was scooped up into Nappa’s massive arms and lifted into the cold night air, grabbing onto the Saiyan for dear life as her stomach sank from the ascent and plasma shots went buzzing by her head.

 

-

She ran.

Nappa sat her down and she ran to him, holding her arms out to the small-statured Saiyan as he instinctively grabbed her, his face reddening as she held tight, her heart beating too fast, the smell of fear and dried alien blood overwhelming her natural scent.

“We’ve got to go, we’ve got to go now!” Bulma gasped as Vegeta looked up at Nappa. _Shit_. They’d been followed…

The bald man handed Bulma’s bag off to Raditz, yelling in the Saiyan tongue at him, telling the younger Saiyan to get his fucking ass on the ship and get the Prince away. Vegeta had always been the priority…

Vegeta kept calm, throwing Bulma over his shoulder, ready to rush toward the ship before he turned to Nappa, who was still standing like a tank toward his encroaching assailants, ready to apprehend them as they arrived. They came in with guns blazing, and Vegeta knew they weren’t just after Bulma anymore, they wouldn’t be twelve men strong just for a wrencher. Nappa had killed some actual cops, that dumb fuck.

 “Nappa, get back to the base now! Don’t kill any more of them, it’ll only make them worse.”

“But…”

“As soon as we’re in, GO!” Vegeta spat, knowing that the man would be much more useful to them later than he would fighting and eventually being jailed or killed. That couldn’t happen, he needed Nappa alive and available to help at some point, and the authorities couldn’t touch him if he was on the military base. He would be punished, but he would be in relatively safe territory there…

Bulma scrambled to hang on to Vegeta, clenching her fingers into the fabric of his shirt as he rushed her to the ship, and she cried out in terror as plasma beams went buzzing by their heads while he stealthily dodged them. Vegeta could sense a presence approaching rapidly, likely one of the quicker of the assailants had run past Nappa while he was occupied with holding the horde off, and Vegeta instinctively ducked as the deafening hum of a blaster went off right next to his head. _Oh gods…_

His ears rang painfully and his stomach sank as he turned around in growing panic, wild-eyed and teeth bared, expecting the worst when she stared at him, unharmed and eyes as wide as saucers. Below them was an officer, scrambling with his broken helmet around his ruined face – one that had been shot by… _Bulma_?

“Just go, I shot him! Go!” she screamed, still white knuckling the pistol, and Vegeta didn’t hesitate as he rushed imperceptibly to the open hatch. Raditz stood in the frame, sending energy blasts at the growing horde as Vegeta hurried through, screaming at the maned Saiyan to close the hatch and get the fuck in the captain’s chair.

Raditz had thankfully had the foresight to have started the vehicle, and now all it would take was to control the cruiser and get it outside of the atmosphere –at least then they would be out of range of the pistols... but then the fun would really begin. Then they would be fugitives.

If they were lucky, Frieza wouldn’t hear about the escapade that went down on Opalian for a while. He was in a very remote location doing gods knew what, and could possibly be too bothered to worry about a few Saiyans causing a ruckus… but Vegeta knew that he wasn’t just any Saiyan. When Frieza found out…

“Vegeta, does Raditz know how to fly this thing?” Bulma yelled over the sound of blasters and the mechanical hum of the nearly sealed hatch, bringing Vegeta’s attention back to the situation at hand. The prince looked at her, beautiful and fearful, her hair a mess and the flakes of alien blood texturing half of her worried face, and he sighed.

“I sure fuckin’ hope so,” he grimaced, setting the woman down and running a hand through the thick shock of his hair. That altercation had been close – far too close for comfort. If he had been hit it would have been no more than a flesh wound at worst, but her – she would have died. Weak creature that she was, crazy woman could have easily been killed. She had flung them both into this mess, all four if he cared to count Raditz and Nappa – simply for his benefit. And they weren’t out of the woods by a long shot.

Suddenly the ship began to raise off the landing pad, and before it was stabilized it violently turned toward its side.

“Raditz, what the fuck!” Vegeta cursed as the ship jolted, sending a screeching Bulma, as well as anything not bolted down, to the floor. The ship wavered as it retained equilibrium, and the pings of plasma shots hitting the metal of the ship began to lessen as the ship gained altitude, before plummeting toward the dock once more.

-

“Oh my GOD! Get this thing stabilized!” Bulma yelled, her stomach ending up somewhere in her throat as the ship lost altitude, and she held onto the wall for balance as the vehicle sputtered and moaned. She didn’t know much about Raditz, but she knew that the fool couldn’t pilot the ship for shit.

“What, like you could do any better?” Raditz yelled with a slightly reedy tone from the cockpit, and Bulma narrowed her eyes as her heart raced.

“I will!” she yelled in response, and she hugged the wall as she made her way to the cockpit as quickly as she could manage in the jittering, unsteady ship. The sharp pinging sounds of the plasma beams began picking back up as Raditz struggled to maintain the vehicle, and as she struggled to approach the captain’s chair he looked up at her with a sheepish grin, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he white-knuckled the steering wheel.

“Alright, move it, we’ve got to get this thing out of here before they do more damage,” Bulma hissed, nauseated, exhausted and ready to get the fuck off the planet. There was no more playing around, she had gotten them all into this mess and she was going to get them out of it.

Raditz gladly gave up the seat and Bulma slid into the chair, one hand on the stick and the other on the wheel. She moved the stick forward, getting a feel for the balance of the ship before pulling the wheel forward, causing it to accelerate and ascend rapidly.

“How do you all make it from planet to planet? Seriously, this is the easiest cruiser to pilot!” Bulma barked as the ship accelerated faster, and she pressed the steering wheel back in, gritting her teeth while locking it into place before flipping the turbo switch. The ship shot forward, and the pressure pressed Bulma’s body violently into the back of the chair as the planet quickly took on the size and shape of a marble in the rear camera before it disappeared entirely. 

“We have pilots on every ship, or we use autopilot for everything…” Raditz finally answered, slumping into the copilot’s seat with his tail hanging limply off the edge. He looked like he had seen better days, and she was sure as hell that she looked like she had once seen them too.

After the ship got up to steadied cruising speed, Bulma sat forward in her seat with an exhausted sigh. She quickly went to work plugging in the coordinates to the last planet she remembered visiting before her ship went down on that fateful night so many years ago. Now she just had to backtrack, to remember how to get home… and it was going to be easier said than done.

“Now we wait and see if we’re followed. I’ll scramble the tracking and licensing on the ship as best as I can, I’m sure I can figure something out that will make this thing _legal_ again,” Bulma exhaled, ready to take a long shower and sleep until the nightmare was over, but again, she was responsible. A few hours of scrambling at high speed would definitely up their chances at ever making it back to Earth.

And God only knew she was more than ready to go home.

-

The first part of their escape mission had been remarkably uneventful, they hadn’t been followed or detained, Bulma had successfully scrambled the ships credentials which made it much more difficult for them to be tracked by any authorities or, gods forbid, the military from catching up with them.

Bulma had reached the first planet on her backtrack through the universe and they had all went out for supplies without being noticed. Bulma had gotten an illegal military map software from a vendor with the few spare credits she had kept on her card, which proved very useful in the following months, detailing areas that weren’t yet on public maps.

The woman had sold some valuable electronics that she had brought with her and had stocked up on rations for all three of them for a few months. After Bulma’s supplies ran out, Raditz had picked up the tab from there. The maned Saiyan had assured Vegeta that he had enough credits to get them through quite a while, and as a last resort, they could always turn to robbery. That wasn’t ideal since it would put them on the radar, but if it came to it – then so be it. Eight months in, and they had not met the tides.

And that just seemed wrong to Vegeta, who was accustomed to the worst… always the worst. Things were going too smoothly.

The prince listened to the ever-present hum of the engine as he stared at Bulma while she slept, curled up in a warm ball beside of him in the bed that was a bit too small for two. The whole room was too small, the entire ship not made for more than one, really. He sighed, watching as she breathed, her hands balled up in front of her face, not a bit of indigo stain left on the pale skin of her fingers.

He worried about her, worried about their future, his mind going over every possible outcome of their haphazard escape. Most of the visions he had were not pleasant, but it wasn’t unfeasible to think they could at least make it back to the woman’s home planet. There he could train harder, he could build his strength up and be prepared for the possibility of an invasion by his former captor.

He knew they were essentially putting Bulma’s entire planet in peril, and he knew she didn’t quite realize how dire the situation would be if they were followed by Frieza. She brushed the subject off, figuring it would be totally impossible for the tyrant to track them to Earth; but Vegeta knew better. He bet that if she fully realized the lizard’s hateful, petty and cunning disposition that she would have steered far clear of her home planet, despite her gnawing wish to return to her home.  

But in truth, the odds were that Earth would have been in peril soon enough anyway. Frieza may not have wanted the planet, but the people on it would make more recruits- more slaves, more credits. And possibly, _possibly_ the bastard wouldn’t even be able to track them, and in that case Vegeta could train and grow stronger without hindrance, he could surpass the motherfucker. He could take the fight to the World Trade Organization, eliminate the threat forever…

It could have all been wishful thinking, but there was no way he was going to be passive about the imminent threat, not ever again. He was going to fight hard and have some Saiyan dignity for the first time in his godsdamn life. He was a free man now.

And all the while they were stuck in space he trained as hard as he could within the confines of the ship, but it wasn’t ever good enough. The inadequate training space was driving him mad, the lack of area to move, to fly and fight and kill. _Gods_ , he wanted to _kill_ …

The violent Saiyan instincts haunted him daily, but they never seemed to perturb Raditz. The asshole seemed content getting high on hos dwindling stash and laying around eating, and it was all Vegeta could do to get him off his lazy ass to spar in the great room ( _which wasn’t so great in size at all_ ). It was infuriating since he needed a capable ally and not a lazy piece of garbage…

But all in all, it could have been going much, _much_ worse.

He exhaled and took a strand of Bulma’s jewel tone hair in his hand, marveling over its sheen even in the very low light of the cabin. It had been straight and silky without what she called ‘ _styling tools’_ , a cascade of hair that reached past her shoulder blades. He liked it, the way it felt and smelled, and he pressed his face into it, nuzzling into the back of her neck, breathing in her comforting scent as she slept.

Vegeta ran his other hand beneath the sheets and gently over her naked curves beneath, and he was amazed by the fact that he had ended up in this situation, he had never ever imagined that all things in his life would lead him to this quiet moment as a universal fugitive with an alien mate.

And he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Gods, he loved her. No matter what he would protect her.

_No matter what._

-

The day they had reached the end of the ‘known’ universe Bulma had recognized that the specks on the map were leading her home. The round, planetoid place-holders on the 3D map weren’t named, only numbered and greyed out so that instant coordinates to them were not an option – but she was entirely confident in her assessment, and ultimately she had been right.

After another three weeks, on dwindling supplies, she wept fiercely in front of the window as a tiny blue marble came into view. Her heart thumping wildly as the ship began to decelerate and they approached Earth, the continents quickly coming into view despite the significant slowdown. She grabbed Vegeta’s hand in hers and he stared at her like she was a mad woman.

She didn’t care, though, she was home.

Home, _Earth_ – the planet of her birth that she had longed for over ten years, one she had thought she may never see again, still intact, still blue and green and simply beautiful.

“Looks like an undeveloped mudball,” Vegeta had grumbled from the copilot’s seat, and with that she dropped his hand to grab ahold of the steering wheel and rein the ship in for landing in West City.

“I don’t care, it’s home, Vegeta. _Home_.”

He had looked at her again, nodding wordlessly to acknowledge her sentiment as she tearfully landed on her little _mudball_ , carefully maneuvering inside of a compound and landing with ease. Capsule Corporation didn’t look a bit different, nothing had changed in all that time…

Bulma took a deep, whimpering breath as she stood up, and Vegeta balked slightly as she took him in her arms. The prince went rigid, unsure of her intent as she pressed her lips on his, and he began to blush, knowing that Raditz was watching them. After all this time, he still got flustered when she kissed him outside of their bedroom…

Bulma pulled away from him, grinning slightly as she waved Raditz off, and the bigger Saiyan smirked, not saying a word as he went to release the hatch.

Vegeta growled low as Bulma kissed his nose, and he looked at her sheepishly as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“I love you, Vegeta,” she whispered, grinning slightly as she fought back more tears of joy. Her heart was so incredibly full, her every wish granted in the moment that the landing gear touched the ground.

Vegeta stared her in the eyes and he nodded, taking her into his arms, embracing her fully as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. She knew he wouldn’t respond with his voice, he didn’t have to say a word though. She understood he loved her more than anything in the cosmos, more than mere words could ever convey.

-

Raditz was the first off the ship, raising the hatch and jumping down into the manicured lawn. He stared up at the yellow sun, straight overhead, shielding his eyes as he scented the air.

“This colors of this place are bright as shit!” He mumbled as Bulma hopped out of the hatch, grinning from ear to ear despite her puffy red eyes.

“God, I hope my mom is here!”

Vegeta followed her off, glancing around at the new surrounding skeptically. Raditz was very right about the colors. He scented the air as Raditz had, his tail wrapped tightly around his waist in suspicion of what unknown was to come. The planet was bright as hell, it smelled like grass and dirt and some vehicle exhaust but overall it was a breath of fresh air compared to many of the planets he had visited. The temperature was hot, not so much unlike his home planet, but it was damned humid- swampy feeling, even. Something he supposed he was going to have to get used to…

The Saiyans watched as Bulma ran up to the house, banging on the door before being quickly pulled inside by skinny arms. The two men stared at each other warily, eyebrows cocked before following, glaring reservedly into the windows to see Bulma being embraced by a woman with yellow hair, hair very much unlike Bulma’s, but there was no mistake that the person was her mother.

They were both crying like idiots in what looked like a kitchen, and Vegeta crossed his arms, watching in silence before Raditz walked past him and into the open door, leaving the prince standing outside in the noon sunshine. He stood alone, smelling the scent of freshly made food wafting out of the house, watching Bulma’s strange mother throw her hands to her cheeks dramatically before she greeted the massive grinning Saiyan with a hug, watching Bulma shake her head after her mother asked her a question ( _likely if Raditz was her mate…tch_ ), watching her point outside the window at Vegeta. His stomach sank as Bulma’s mother smiled widely and waved, motioning for the Saiyan prince to join them.

His pulse picked up and he hesitated, unsure of the entire situation, knowing that the sun felt nice, knowing that Bulma’s mother was unnaturally trusting of the men who were destroyers of worlds, knowing it was safer outside despite the promise of some sort of delicious smelling food. He just didn’t want to go in. It all seemed too good, too right. _He was the unlucky one…_

Vegeta swallowed, closing his eyes with weak resolve, guessing he had faced far more terrifying things than happiness in his previously awful life. The prince put his head down, took a deep breath and reluctantly walked through the threshold of Capsule Corporation for the very first time.

He surely didn’t know it then, but this was to be his home. It was a place that he would make his mate his wife, a place where he and Raditz would discover another Saiyan, a place where his children would be born. It would be a home he would proudly, violently fight for – but first he had to face this mother of Bulma’s, face the challenges that living in the human world would bring.

And that would be a battle all on its own.

 

**EPILOGUE**

A silly pink scouter sat in a dark lab, its charging base crudely adapted to take power from an Earth standard plug. It had been turned on to receive signals, but it had been more or less forgotten, checked very seldom after a month of being on Earth.

The scouter lens glowed red, blinking slowly in the dark with a message from somewhere in the depths of space. It was a dire warning sent from a large, bald Saiyan as he traveled within a sophisticated craft, a quick warship - Frieza’s very own.

The lens blinked in the darkness as Bulma showed the Saiyans the ins and outs of Earth.

It blinked, one day… two days… three days…

**TO BE CONTINUED….**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap for Indigo! This is my favorite story that I've written so far, and I hope you all enjoyed it as well. Stay tuned, as I have a little something in store for a sequel ;>


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